courage in his heart to wound her sensitive nature, And
perhaps, after all, there was no cause for fear. And so he
had gone on, unintentionally deceiving her, and trying to de
ceive himself.
But such days, though too good to loose, were yet too
sweet to last., And so there had come a time, the last day of
his vacation, when, realizing that his fears were only too
true, he knew that he must tell her.
could he ever forget that last evening they were to
gether. It was such a lovely summer night. The full moon
seemed to flood the earth with her soft, mellow light. The
winds and the waves had fallen asleep. And the brooding
earth lay hushed in pensive silence, broken only by the dron
ing sound of insects. or the weird, restless cry of some
night-wanderer borne from afar upon the pulsing air.
They were sitting beneath the trees where they had
first met. No word had broken the long silence which en
vironecl them. They were too happy to talk.
Suddenly her voice aroused him.
"It makes me too sad," she said "I want to talk. I want
to get it off• my mind."
"What is it little girl? Tell me."
"I wish I could," she replied, "but it is so new and
strange I cannot half express it. Nature is so beautiful—l
love it—but it does not satisfy me. I long for something—
something I seem to hear as from a distance, but cannot see.
lam trying to get closer to it, but I cannot. Perhaps it is
my mother--but she seems so far away. I can feel the
beauty of such motherhood, and I can pray to her; but I can
not throw myself into her arms. lam surrounded--and yet
I am alone." •
What wonder, seeing her yearning eyes looking up at
him with childlike confidence for protection from this some
thing that half pleased, yet half frightened her, that he
should hesitate before replying. What should he say? Ah.
it was cruel; but he must tell her the truth.