as to be the final result, I had determined
that this day should be a happy one, and, since Marion objected so
strongly to the intense style, she should see nothing but what was
simply friendly and companionable.

But it was a hard struggle. To see her beautiful, animated face--her
light, agile form--to feel her little hand--to hear the musical cadence
of her unequalled voice, and yet to repress all undue emotion. By Jove!
I tell you what it is, it isn't every fellow who could have held out as
long as I did.

At last we had exhausted the falls, and we went back to the little inn
where the horses were left. We had still over an hour, and I proposed a
walk to the river-bank. To this Marion assented.

We set out, and I led the way toward that very cottage where I had
taken her on that memorable occasion when I first met her. I had no
purpose in this, more than an irresistible desire to stand on that bank
by her side, and, in company with her, to look over that river, and
have the eyes of both of us simultaneously looking over the track of
our perilous journey. And still, even with such a purpose as this, I
resolved to discard all sentiment, and maintain only the friendly
attitude.

The cottage was not far away, and, in a short tune, we entered the gate of
the farm, and found ourselves approaching it.

As we went on, a sudden change came over Marion.

Up to the time of our entering the gate she had still maintained the
geniality of manner and the lightness of tone which had sprung up
during our wanderings about the falls. But here, as we came within
sight of the cottage, I saw her give a sudden start. Then she stopped
and looked all around. Then she gave a sudden look at me--a deep,
solemn, earnest look, in which her dark, lustrous eyes fastened
themselves on mine for a moment, as though, they would read my very
soul.

And at that look every particle of my commonplace tone, and every
particle of my resolution, vanished and passed away utterly.

The next instant her eyes fell. We had both stopped, and now stood
facing one another.

"Pardon me," said I, in deep agitation. "I thought it might interest
you. But, if you wish it, we may go back. Shall we go back, or shall we
go on?"

"As you please," said she, in a low voice.

We went on.

We did not stop at the cottage. We passed by it, walking in silence
onward toward the river-bank. We reached it at last, and stood there
side by side, looking out upon the rive