s's mind now. "Indeed, Mr. Forsythe," she
said, "indeed, I am so sorry, but I don't--I can't!"

A sullen look clouded his handsome face. "I cannot believe it," he said,
at length. "You have known that I loved you all summer; you cannot be so
cruel as to trifle with me now. You will not treat me so. Oh, I love
you!" There was almost a wail in his voice, and he threw himself down in
a chair and covered, his face with his hands.

Lois did not speak. Her lip curled a little, but it was partly with
contempt for herself and her past uncertainty. "I am so sorry, so
grieved," she began. But he scarcely heard her, or at least he did not
grasp the significance of her words.

He began to plead and protest. "We will be so happy if you will only
care for me. Just think how different your life will be; you shall have
everything in this world you want, Lois."

She could not check his torrent of words, and when at last he stopped he
had almost convinced himself that she loved him.

But she shook her head. "I cannot tell you how distressed I am, but I do
not love you."

He was silent, as though trying to understand.

"Won't you try and forget it? Won't you forgive me, and let us be
friends?" she said.

"You really mean it? You really mean to make me wretched? Forget it? I
wish to Heaven I could!"

Lois did not speak. There seemed to be nothing to say.

"You have let me think you cared," he went on, "and I have built on it;
I have staked all my happiness on it; I am a ruined man if you don't love
me. And you coolly tell me you do not care for me! Can't you try to? I'll
make you so happy, if you will only make me happy, Lois."

"Please--please," she protested, "do not say anything more; it never can
be,--indeed, it cannot!"

Dick's voice had been tender a moment before, but it was hard now.
"Well," he said, "you have amused yourself all summer, I suppose. You
made me think you loved me, and everybody else thought so, too."

The hint of blame kept Lois from feeling the sting of conscience. She
flung her head back, and looked at him with a flash of indignation in her
eyes. "Do you think it's manly to blame me? You had better blame yourself
that you couldn't win my love!"

"Do you expect a man to choose his words when you give him his
death-blow?" he said; and then, "Oh, Miss Lois, if I wait, can't you
learn to care for me? I'll wait,--a year, if you say there's any hope.
Or do you love anybody else? Is that the reason?"