.

"Love," he whispered, "have you forgotten me entirely?"

His hand shook slightly; but Ruth gave no sign that she saw or heard.

"This has been too much for you," he said, drawing her head to his
breast. She lay there as if in a trance, with eyes closed, her face
lily-white against him. They remained in this position for some minutes
till he became alarmed at her passivity.

"You are tired, darling," he said, stroking her cheek; "shall I leave
you?"

She started up as if alive to his presence for the first time, and
sprang to her feet. She turned giddy and swayed toward him. He caught
her in his arms.

"I am so dizzy," she laughed in a broken voice, looking with dry,
shining eyes at him; "hold me for a minute."

He experienced a feeling of surprise as she clasped her arms around his
neck; Ruth had been very shy with her caresses.

His eyes met hers in a long, strange look.

"Of what are you thinking?" he asked in a low voice.

"There is an old German song I used to sing," she replied musingly;
"will you think me very foolish if I say it is repeating itself to me
now, over and over again?"

"What is it, dear?' he asked, humoring her.

"Do you understand German? Oh, of course, my student; but this is a sad
old song; students don't sing such things. These are some of the words:
'Beh te Gott! es war zu schoen gewesen.' I wish--"

"It is a miserable song," he said lightly; "forget it."

She disengaged herself from his arms and sat down. Some late roisterers
passing by in the street were heard singing to the twang of a mandolin.
It was a full, deep song, and the casual voices blended in perfect
accord. As the harmony floated out of hearing, she looked up at him with
a haunting smile.

"People are always singing to us; I wish they wouldn't. Music is so sad;
it is like a heart-break."

He knelt beside her; he was a tall man, and the action seemed natural.

"You are pale and tired," he said; "and I am going to take a doctor's
privilege and send you to bed. To-morrow you can answer better what I
so long to hear. You heard what your father said; your answer rests
entirely with you. Will you write, or shall I come?"

"Do you know," she answered, her eyes burning in her pale face, "you
have very pretty, soft dark hair? Does it feel as soft as it looks?"
She raised her hand, and ran her fingers lingeringly through his short,
thick hair.

"Why," she said brightly, "here are some silvery threads on your
templ