as of old. She perceived a change and wondered.
One day at sundown he sat moodily in front of the temple. She was lying
in the hammock near by. There had been one of the long, and to her
inexplicable, silences. He felt that her eyes were upon him and knew
that they were wistful and perplexed.

Try as he would, he could not keep his own eyes in leash; something
irresistible made him lift them to meet her gaze. For a moment they
looked at each other in a mute search for something neither was able to
describe. He could not hold out against the pleading, troubled,
questioning eyes, bent so solemnly upon his own. The wounds in her
heart, because of his indifference, strange and unaccountable to her,
gaped in those blue orbs.

A tremendous revulsion of feeling took possession of him; what he had
been subduing for weeks gained supremacy in an instant. He half rose to
his feet as if to rush over and crush her in his arms, but a mightier
power than his emotion held him back. That same unseen, mysterious power
compelled him to turn about and almost run from the temple, leaving her
chilled and distressed by his action. The power that checked him
was Memory.

She was deeply hurt by this last impulsive exhibition of disregard. A
bewildering sense of loneliness oppressed her. He despised her! All the
world grew black for her. All the light went out of her heart. He
despised her! There was a faintness in her knees when she essayed to
arise from the hammock. A little cry of anguish left her lips; a hunted,
friendless look came into her eyes.

Staggering to the end of the temple, she looked in the direction he had
taken. Far down the line of hills she saw him standing on a little
elevation, his back toward her, his face to the river. Some strong
influence drew her to him. Out of this influence grew the wild,
unquenchable desire to understand. Hardly realizing what she did, she
hurried through the growing dusk toward the motionless figure. As she
came nearer a strange timidity, an embarrassment she had never felt
before, seized upon her and her footsteps slackened.

He had not seen her. A panicky inclination to fly back to the temple
came over her. In her heart welled a feeling of resentment. Had he any
right to forget what she had done for him?

He heard her, turned swiftly, and--trembled in every joint. They were
but a few paces apart and she was looking unwaveringly into his eyes.

"I have followed you out here to ask why you