five years I watched it curl and
waver. In it I saw many castles and the castles were fair, indeed. I
strove to grasp this love; smoke, smoke. Smoke is nothing, given a
color. Thus it is with our dreams. If only we might not wake!"

Gretchen's eyes were following the course of the languid river.

"Once there was a woman I thought I loved; but she would have none of
it. She said that the love I gave her was not complete because she did
not return it. She brought forth the subject of affinities, and
ventured to say that some day I might meet mine. I scoffed inwardly.
I have now found what she said to be true. The love I gave her was the
bud; the rose-- Gretchen," said I, rising, "I love you; I am not a
hypocrite; I cannot parade my regard for you under the flimsy guise of
friendship."

"Go and give the rose to her to whom you gave the bud," said Gretchen.
The half smile struck me as disdainful. "You are a strange wooer."

"I am an honest one." I began plucking at the bark of the tree. "No;
I shall let the rose wither and die on the stem. I shall leave
to-morrow, Gretchen. I shall feel as Adam did when he went forth from
Eden. Whatever your place in this world is it is far above mine. I
am, in truth, a penniless adventurer. The gulf between us cannot be
bridged."

"No," said Gretchen, the smile leaving her lips, "the gulf cannot be
bridged. You are a penniless adventurer, and I am a fugitive from--the
law, the King, or what you will. You are a man; man forgets. You have
just illustrated the fact. His memory and his promises are like the
smoke; they fade away but soon. I shall be sorry to have you go, but
it is best so."

"Do you love any one else?"

"I do not; I love no one in the sense you mean. It was not written
that I should love any man."

"Gretchen, who are you, and what have you done?"

"What have I done? Nothing! Who am I? Nobody!"

"Is that the only answer you can give?"

"It is the only answer I will give."

There was something in Gretchen's face which awed me. It was power and
resolution, two things man seldom sees in a woman's face.

"Supposing, Gretchen, that I should take you in my arms and kiss you?"
I was growing reckless because I felt awed, which seems rather a
remarkable statement. "I know you only as a barmaid; why, not?"

She never moved to go away. There was no alarm in her eyes, though
they narrowed.

"You would never forgive yourself, would you?"