And so he told her of the ambition of his life, and, how
he had set his heart upon it. And she listened to his un
natural voice as one in a dream. What was he saying? She
did not know. And then she caught the words,—
"And so little girl, you see our ways must part. To
morrow Igo away. And then you must forget me. "
His words struck her like a whip. Forget him—how
could she. Like a flash the truth dawned upon her that the
something which had frightened her so was love. She loved
him. And now lie was going away. She tried to speak,
but the words stopped in her throat. She tried to be brave,
but it was a hopeless bravery. And then in utter despair,
she burst into tears—the contrite tears of a broken heart.
Was it in pity, shame, or love that he took her in his
arms, and held her there in a kiss she never forgot. •
Poor little girl—poor little wild rose! He had come
nearer to loving her than he ever had any one else. But
such things were not for his enjoyment. No, he must put
them away from him. And so they had parted—those two.
Even now lie could see her standing at the gate watch
ing him out of sight—and the soft moonlight—and the weep
ing-willow trees— and the sheen of the lake with a shadow
in it.
Ah well, he had been thoughtless, cruel, even heartless.
But it was not intentional. He was very sorry about it—he
would rectify the injury if he could—but—well, as he looked
back at it now, he could almost forgive himself. It had been
so extremely pleasant—such a very delightful Summer.
The Free Lance.