n the cord.

How it happened, neither of them ever knew. But a sudden electric thrill
ran through their veins. Something hammered in their brains. For a brief
instant, their hearts beat as though the whole world must hear. He had
touched her finger, and, before he was aware of it, he had dared to lean
over and kiss it. Not a word was said--there was no time for words. They
did not need speech to understand. It was the old, but ever new experience
of the ages: two who loved each other had found out in the twinkling of an
eye--and she belonged to another. There was a moment of terrible silence.
Then,

"I'm sorry," was all Gilbert could get out.

"But you touched my hand many a time, in the old days," Lucia said.

"That was different. You're married now. Oh, there is a vast change since
then. I could not--Forgive me, my dear." He turned away his face. He did
not want her to read what was in his eyes. "Shall I send them, or would you
rather take them with you?" he asked, hiding behind that commonplace
question the emotion he felt. His voice held a note of pain.

Lucia rose. "You mean you want to give these wonderful rugs and blankets to
me?--these priceless things."

"More than that. I want you to have them--to remind you--sometimes of--" He
broke off, like a frightened lad.

"As though I should ever need reminding! How dull you men can be! But I
don't want to take them from you, Gil."

"I'm giving up this ranch," he told her, "I shan't want them any more.
Please take them, for my sake." He made a gesture, as though they were the
last of his poor possessions.

"I thought you loved it here?" she said.

"I do--in a way."

"Then why are you giving it up?" was the natural question.

He hesitated, not knowing what to answer. "I thought I'd try something else
for awhile. I hate to have to tell you this, Lucia; but the fact is,
I--I've got to leave to-day. I was going to tell you before, only I was
hoping that something might turn up at the last minute, and--well, it
hasn't. That's all."

There was nothing she could say; and they stood looking at each other in
silence--a silence that was far more eloquent than speech. Gilbert went
over and sat on the case, and Lucia finally said:

"Then we won't see each other again?"

He nodded, sorrowfully. Lucia Pell went over to the door and looked out
once more. He watched her, covertly--her every gesture held a new meaning
for him now. The silence continued. At length she t