he turned away, and, throwing her arm about an old locust-tree in the
path, laid her cheek against the rough bark, and hid her eyes.

"Oh, don't cry, Lois," he besought her. "What a brute I was to have told
you in that abrupt way! Don't cry."

"Oh, no," she said, "no, no, no! you must not say that--you--you do not
understand"--

"Don't," he said tenderly, "don't--Lois!"

Lois put one hand softly on his arm, but she kept her face covered.
Gifford was greatly distressed.

"I ought not to have told you in that way,"--Lois shook her
head,--"and--and I have no doubt he--they'll come to Ashurst and
tell you of their plans before they start."

Lois seemed to listen.

"Yes," Gifford continued, gaining conviction from his desire to help her,
"of course he will return."

Lois had ceased to cry. "Do--do you think so?"

"I'm sure of it," Gifford answered firmly; and even as he spoke, he had a
mental vision, in which he saw himself bringing Dick Forsythe back to
Ashurst, and planting him forcibly at Lois's feet. "I ought to have
considered," he went on, looking at her anxiously, "that in your
exhausted state it would be a shock to hear that your friends were going
so far away; though Europe isn't so very far, Lois. Of course they'll
come and tell you all about it before they go; probably they had their
own reasons for not doing it before they left Ashurst,--your health,
perhaps. But no doubt, no possible doubt, that Mr. Forsythe, at least,
will come back here to make any arrangements there may be about his
house, you know."

This last was a very lame reason, and Gifford felt it, for the house had
been closed and the rent paid, and there was nothing more to do; but he
must say something to comfort her.

Lois had quite regained her composure; even the old hopeless look had
returned.

"I beg your pardon," she said. "I am very--foolish. I don't know why I am
so weak--I--I am still anxious about Mrs. Forsythe, you know; the long
journey for her"--

"Of course," he assured her. "I know how it startled you."

She turned to go into the house, and Gifford followed her, first picking
up the neglected roses at her feet.

"I do not know what you think of me," she said tremulously.

"I only think you are not very strong," he answered tenderly, yet keeping
his eyes from her averted face; he felt that he had seen more than he had
a right to, already. His first thought was to protect her from herself;
she must not think she had