ave never forgotten
you--or what you did--or what you did----"

"I?"

"You.... And from that night I have lived only to find you again.
And--oh, God! To find you here! My Messenger! My little Messenger!"

"Who are you?" she whispered, leaning forward on the table, dark eyes
dilating with hope.

He sat heavily for a while, head bowed as though stunned to silence;
then slowly the white misery returned to his face and he looked up.

"So--after all--_you_ have forgotten. And my romance is dead."

She did not answer, intent now on every word, every shade of his
expression. And, as she looked, through the numbness of her desperation,
hope stirred again, stealthily.

"Are you a friend?" Her voice scarcely sounded at all.

"Friends die for each other," he said. "Do you expect that of me?"

The silence between them became terrible; and at last he broke it with a
bitter laugh:

"You once turned a boy's life to romance--riding through it--out of
it--leaving scars on his brow and heart--and on his lips the touch of
your own. And on his face your tears. Look at me once more!"

Her breath came quicker; far within her somewhere memory awoke, groping
blindly for light.

"Three days we followed you," he said. "On the Pennsylvania line we
cornered you; but you changed garb and shape and speech, almost under
our eyes--as a chameleon changes color, matching the leaf it hides
on.... I halted at that squatter's house--sure of you at last--and the
pretty squatter's daughter cooked for us while we hunted you in the
hills--and when I returned she gave me her bed to sleep on----"

Her hand caught at her throat and she half rose, staring at him.

"Her own bed to sleep on," he repeated. "And I had been three days
in the saddle; and I ate what she set before me, and slept on her
bed--fell asleep--only a tired boy, not a soldier any longer....
And awoke to meet your startled eyes--to meet the blow from your
revolver butt that made this scar--to fall back bewildered for a
moment--half-stunned--Messenger! Do you know me now?"

"Yes," she said.

They looked breathlessly at one another; suddenly a hot blush covered
her neck and face; and his eyes flashed triumph.

"You have _not_ forgotten!" he cried.

And there, on the very edge of death itself, the bright shame glowed and
glowed in her cheeks, and her distressed eyes fell before his.

"You kissed me," he said, looking at her.

"I--I thought I had--killed you--" she stammered.