r eyes as she gazed
heavenward. She had thought to journey to heathen lands alone,
single-handed to fight the battle, and now--"Arthur--Arthur!" she called
in a soft, sweet whisper as she drooped her smiling face. What mattered
all her blind shilly-shally fancies about his nature not being poetic?
There was more poetry buried in that heart of his than she had ever
dreamed. "I can never, never marry Arthur!" she had often told herself.
She laughed now as she thought of it, and it was late before she slept,
for she seemed to see those eyes looking at her in the darkness--so
familiar, yet so new and changed! She awoke for a moment in the grey
light just before dawn, and she could see him still; her hand yet
thrilled from his touch. She heard the hoarse whistle of a steamer on
the lake; the rooks were cawing in the elm-tree over the roof, and she
fell asleep again.

"Good-morning, Rip Van Winkle," said May, when she entered the
breakfast-room.

"Why, is that clock--just look at the time! I forgot to wind my watch
last night, and I hadn't the faintest idea what time it was when I got
up this morning!"

"Good-bye for to-night, Beth," he had said, and he was going away
to-morrow morning, so he would surely come to-day. No wonder she went
about with an absent smile on her face, and did everything in the
craziest possible way. It was so precious, this newly-found secret of
hers! She knew her own heart now. There was no possibility of her
misunderstanding herself in the future. The afternoon was wearing away,
and she sat waiting and listening. Ding! No, that was only a
beggar-woman at the door. Ding, again! Yes, that was Arthur! Then she
grew frightened. How could she look into his eyes? He would read her
secret there. He sat down before her, and a formal coldness seemed to
paralyze them both.

"I have come to bid you good-bye, Miss Woodburn!"

Miss Woodburn! He had never called her that before. How cold his voice
sounded in her ears!

"Are you going back to Victoria College?" she asked.

"No, to the Wesleyan. Are you going to spend your summer in
Briarsfield?"

"Most of it. I am going back to Toronto for a week or two before
'Varsity opens. My friend Miss de Vere is staying with some friends
there. She is ill and--"

"Do you still call her your friend?" he interrupted, with a sarcastic
smile.

"Why, yes!" she answered wonderingly, never dreaming that he had
witnessed that same scene in the Mayfair home.

"You ar