he muttered.

"You didn't understand; why did you believe anything I said to you? It
was only that I cared--that in my heart I knew I cared--I've cared
about you ever since that trip down the river, and now I am going to
be married to-morrow--to-morrow, Bruce--do you realize I have given my
promise? I am to meet him at the Spring Bank church at ten o'clock--and
it's tomorrow!" she cried, in a laboring choked voice. For answer he
drew her closer. "Bruce, what can I do?--tell me what I can do."

Carrington made an involuntary gesture of protest.

"I can't tell you that, dear--for I don't know." His voice was steady,
but it came from lips that quivered. He knew that he might have urged
the supreme claim of his love and in her present desperate mood she
would have listened, but the memory of Norton would have been between
them always a shame and reproach; as surely as he stood there with his
arms about her, as surely as she clung to him so warm and near, he would
have lived to see the shadow of that shame in her eyes.

"I can not do it--I can not, Bruce!" she panted.

"Dear--dear--don't tempt me!" He held himself in check.

"I am going to tell you--just this once, Bruce--I love you--you are my own
for this one moment out of my life!" and she abandoned herself to the
passionate caressing with which he answered her. "How can I give you
up?" he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. He put her from him almost
roughly, and leaning against the trunk of a tree buried his face in his
hands. Betty watched him for a moment in wretched silence.

"Don't feel so bad, Bruce," she said brokenly. "I am not worth it. I
tried not to love you--I didn't want to." She raised a white face to
his.

"I am going now, Betty. You--you shouldn't stay here any longer with
me." He spoke with sudden resolution.

"And I shall not see you again?" she asked, in a low, stifled voice.

"It's good-by--" he muttered.

"Not yet--oh, not yet, Bruce--" she implored. "I can not--"

"Yes--now, dear. I don't dare stay--I may forget--" but he turned again
to her in entreaty. "Give me something to remember in all the years
that are coming when I shall be alone--let me kiss you on the lips--let
me--just this once--it's good-by we're saying--it's good-by, Betty!"

She went to him, and, as he bent above her, slipped her arms about his
neck.

"Kiss me--" she breathed.

He kissed her hair, her soft cheek, then their lips met.

He helped her as she stumbled