m, and disclosed a hideous abyss beyond, in which the whole of
that goodly palace lay in heaped and tangled ruins--the fitting symbol
of his wrecked and shattered hopes."

She drew back a little way from him, but still holding on to the top of
the broken wall with one slim gauntleted hand, and swung herself to one
side, while she surveyed him with smiling, parted lips and conscious
eyelids. He promptly covered her hand with his own, but she did not
seem to notice it.

"That is not the story," she said, in a faint voice that even her
struggling sauciness could not make steadier. "The true story is
called 'The Legend of the Goose-Girl of Strudle Bad, and the
enterprising Gosling.' There was once a goose-girl of the plain who
tried honestly to drive her geese to market, but one eccentric and
willful gosling-- Mr. Hathaway! Stop--please--I beg you let me go!"

He had caught her in his arms--the one encircling her waist, the other
hand still grasping hers. She struggled, half laughing; yielded for a
breathless moment as his lips brushed her cheek, and--threw him off.
"There!" she said, "that will do: the story was not illustrated."

"But, Yerba," he said, with passionate eagerness, "hear me--it is all
God's truth.--I love you!"

She drew back farther, shaking the dust of the wall from the folds of
her habit. Then, with a lower voice and a paler cheek, as if his lips
had sent her blood and utterance back to her heart, she said, "Come,
let us go."

"But not until you've heard me, Yerba."

"Well, then--I believe you--there!" she said, looking at him.

"You believe me?" he repeated eagerly, attempting to take her hand
again.

She drew back still farther. "Yes," she said, "or I shouldn't be here
now. There! that must suffice you. And if you wish me still to
believe you, you will not speak of this again while we are out
together. Come, let us go back to the horses."

He looked at her with all his soul. She was pale, but composed,
and--he could see--determined. He followed her without a word. She
accepted his hand to support her again down the slope without
embarrassment or reminiscent emotion. The whole scene through which
she had just passed might have been buried in the abyss and ruins
behind her. As she placed her foot in his hand to remount, and for a
moment rested her weight on his shoulder, her brown eyes met his
frankly and without a tremor.

Nor was she content with this. As Paul at first rode