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"Child, child," said Willett, taking her free hand in both of his, "you speak a silent language with your eyes that no man can fail to understand"

"I failed," I said bitterly, as Willett kissed her hand, placed it in , entered the open door

"And what blame, Carus?" she whispered "What have I been to you but a sy? How could you know I loved you so dearly that I could stand aside to let you pass? First I loved you selfishly, sha norance and bewilderment"

Her arm fell froether under the brilliant autulory of the trees

"That storm that torearm to bear me up!"

"It was you who bore me up, Elsin How can I leave you now!"

"Why, Carus, our honor is involved"

"Our honor!"

"Yes, dear, ours"

"You--you bid o, Elsin?"

"If I bid you stay, ould avail except to prove me faithless to you? How could I truly love you and counsel dishonor?"

White as a flower, the fixed smile never left her lips, nor did her steady pace beside er quiver of the little hand that lay withinto and fro under the paintedno one, until the bell at the fort struck the hour It meant the end

We kissed each other once I could not speak My horse, led by Jack Mount, appeared froether

Once ently dreay and entered the open door, hands outstretched as though blinded, feeling her way--that was the last I saw of her, feeling her dark way alone into the house

Senses swi in allop into the sunny street, north, then west, then north once ate halted ain, then another gate, then on again, hailed and halted by rifle ofthrough the grassy cart-road, th to the Danascara, shining in the sunlight, and followed its banks--the same banks from which so often in happier days I had fished At times I traveled the Tribes Hill road, at ti every forest-trail as I did, and presently entered the wood-road that leads froa church to Johnstown I was in Butlersbury; there was the slope, there the Tribes Hill trail, there the stony road leading to that accursed house from which the Butlers, father and son, soone forth to eternal infamy