so often had charmed me. "She
would be happy anywhere with the man who had permitted her to have her
way, and I know that she would be delighted to live up there. And you--I
mean the man---wouldn't have any of the trees cut down, would he?"

"Not one. He would build the house in that open place."

"Charming," she said. "How sweet a religion could be made of a life up
there, with the river and the hills and the island--beautiful."

"Guinea, I wish you would tell me something. Did you ever really
love--him?"

"When I have come to you as I told you I would come, you will not have
to ask me anything."

"But can you give me some idea as to how long I may have to wait? My
confidence in you is complete, but you must know that to wait is
painful. Suppose that a certain something that you are waiting
for--suppose that nothing should come of it? What then?"

"No matter what takes place, I will come to you. I know that it must
appear foolish, I know that I am but vague in what I try to make you
understand, but--you will wait a while longer, won't you?"

Her voice was so pleading, her manner was so full of distress, that I
hastened to tell her that I would wait no matter how long she might
deign to hold me off, and that never again could she find cause to
reprove my impatience. She thanked me with a smile and with many an
endearing word, and onward we went, the boats passing us, the songs of
lovers reaching us from above and below. We landed and climbed the
bluff, and I selected the exact spot whereon the house was to be; we
loitered in the shade and counted the minutes as they flew away like
pigeons from a trap, but we could not shoot them and bring them back; so
they were gone, and it was soon time for us to go, for the light of the
sun was weakening. Down the river we went, singing "Juanita," she
rippling the water with her hand, I half-hearted in my rowing, dreamily
wishing that the train might leave me.

Close to me at the door she stood. The old man was outside, waiting to
go with me to the railway station. She bowed her head and I kissed her
hair.

CHAPTER XX.

The sun had just gone down, and a man was beating a triangle to announce
that it was lodge-night, when I stepped upon the sidewalk in front of
Conkwright's office. The old man was locking his door. I spoke to him
and he turned about, and, seeing me, merely nodded, threw open the door
and bade me go in. "Mighty glad you've got back," he said. "They