he had heard that Clarence was turning out a literary
failure. He had talent, but he had not the fresh, original genius that
this age of competition demands. Poor Clarence! She was sorry for him.

"You have been all summer in Briarsfield?" he asked.

"Yes, but I am going to Toronto to-morrow morning."

"Yes, I know. Miss de Vere told me she had sent for you."

"Oh, you have seen her then!"

"Yes, I saw her yesterday. Poor girl, she'll not last long. Consumption
has killed all the family."

Beth wondered if he loved Marie, and she looked at him, with her gentle,
sympathetic eyes. He caught her look and winced under it. She gazed away
at the glimpse of lake between the village roofs for a moment.

"Beth, have you forgotten the past?" he asked, in a voice abrupt but
gentle.

She started. She had never seen his face look so expressive. The tears
rose to her eyes as she drooped her flushing face.

"No, I have not forgotten."

"Beth, I did not love you then; I did not know what love meant--"

"Oh, don't speak of it! It would have been a terrible mistake!"

"But, Beth, can you never forgive the past? I love you _now_--I have
loved you since--"

"Oh, hush, Clarence! You _must_ not speak of love!" And she buried her
face in her hands and sobbed a moment, then leaned forward slightly
toward him, a tender look in her eyes.

"I love another," she said, in a low gentle voice.

He shielded his eyes for a moment with his fair delicate hand. It was a
hard moment for them both.

"I am so sorry, Clarence. I know what you feel. I am sorry we ever met."

He looked at her with a smile on his saddened face.

"I feared it was so; but I had rather love you in vain than to win the
love of any other woman. Good-bye, Beth."

"Good-bye."

He lingered a moment as he touched her hand in farewell.

"God bless you," she said, softly.

He crossed the garden in the sunshine, and she sat watching the fleecy
clouds and snatches of lake between the roofs. Poor Clarence! Did love
mean to him what it meant to her? Ah, yes! she had seen the pain written
on his brow. Poor Clarence! That night she craved a blessing upon him as
she knelt beside her bed. Just then he was wandering about the
weed-grown lawns of his father's house, which looked more desolate than
ever in the light of the full moon. It was to be sold the following
spring, and he sighed as he walked on toward the lake-side. Right there
on that little cliff he had asked Beth