on thrust itself upon
him. He had been marked by fate, life, war, death! He knew it; he had
only forgotten.

"Daren! Daren!"

Mel's voice broke the spell. Lane made a savage gesture, as if he were
in the act of striking. Thought of Mel recalled the stingingly sweet
and bitter fact of his love, and of life that called so imperiously.

CHAPTER XXIV

"If Amanda would only marry me!" sighed Colonel A Pepper, as he
stacked the few dishes on the cupboard shelf and surveyed his untidy
little kitchen with disparaging eyes.

The once-contented Colonel was being consumed by two great
fires--remorse and love. For more years than he could remember he had
been a victim of a deplorable habit. Then two soft eyes shone into his
life, and in their light he saw things differently, and he tried to
redeem himself.

Even good fortune, in the shape of some half-forgotten meadow property
suddenly becoming valuable, had not revived his once genial spirits.
Remorse was with him because Miss Hill refused to marry him till he
overcame the habit which had earned him undesirable fame.

So day by day poor Colonel Pepper grew sicker of his lonely rooms, his
lonely life, and of himself.

"If Amanda only would," he murmured for the thousandth time, and
taking his hat he went out. The sunshine was bright, but did not give
him the old pleasure. He walked and walked, taking no interest in
anything. Presently he found himself on the outskirts of Middleville
within sound of the muffled roar of the flooded river, and he wandered
in its direction. At sight of the old wooden bridge he remembered he
had read that it was expected to give way to the pressure of the
rushing water. On the levee, which protected the low-lying country
above the city, were crowds of people watching the river.

"Ye've no rivers loike thot in Garminy," observed a half-drunken
Irishman. He and several more of his kind evidently were teasing a
little German.

Colonel Pepper had not stood there long before he heard a number of
witticisms from these red-faced men.

After the manner of his kind the German had stolidly swallowed the
remarks about his big head, and its shock of stubby hair, and his
checked buff trousers; but at reference to his native country his
little blue eyes snapped, and he made a remark that this river was
extremely like one in Germany.

At this the characteristic contrary spirit of the Irishman burst
forth.

"Dutchy, I'd loike ye to know ye're