enough to hear those words many
times--I should think it quite probable," and she let her eyes rest
approvingly for a moment on his face; "but it is well to consider
the girls who make those avowals before you place full credence on
the statement--not that they _always_ mean to deceive," she amended,
"but those three words have a most peculiar fascination for
girlhood--they like to use them even when they do not comprehend
the meaning."

He shook his head as he looked at her.

"It is no use, Madame la Marquise," he said, and the ardent eyes met
her own and made her conscious of a sudden fear. "You reason it out
very well--philosophy is one of your hobbies, isn't it? I always
detested women with hobbies--the strong-minded woman who reasons
instead of feeling; and now you are revenging the whole army of them
by making me feel beyond reason. But you shan't evade me by such
tactics. Do you remember what your last spoken words to me were, three
years ago?"

Her face paled a little, she lifted the bridle to urge her horse
onward, but he laid his hand on her wrist.

"No, pardon me, but I must speak to you--day and night I have thought
of them, and now that you are here--oh, I know you sent me away--that
is, you hid from me; and why, Judithe? I believe on my soul it was
because you meant those words when you said: '_I love you now, and
from the first moment you ever looked at me!_' I told myself at first,
when I left France, that it was all falsehood, coquetry--but I could
not keep that belief, for the words rang too true--you thought you
were going over that bank to death, and all your heart was in your
voice and your eyes. That moment has come back to me a thousand times
since; has been with me in the thick of battle, singing through my
ears as the bullets whistled past. '_I love you now, and from the
first moment you ever looked at me._' It is no use to pretend you did
not mean those words then. I know in my heart you did. You were bound
in some way, no doubt, and fancied you had no right to say them. The
announcement of your engagement suggested that. But you are free now,
or you would not be here, and I must be heard."

"Be satisfied then," she replied, indifferently, though her hand
trembled on the bridle, "you perceive you have, thanks to your
stronger arm, an audience of one."

"You are angry at my presumption--angry at the advantage I have taken
of the situation?" he asked. "I grant you are right; but remember,