of honor that's at least as
big as a grain of mustard-seed."

"Claude Merrill is not dishonorable," Rose exclaimed impetuously; "or
at least he is n't as bad as you think: he has never asked me to marry
him."

"Then he probably was not quite ready to speak, or perhaps you were not
quite ready to hear," retorted Stephen, bitterly; "but don't let us have
words,-there'll be enough to regret without adding those. I have seen,
ever since New Year's, that you were not really happy or contented; only
I would n't allow it to myself; I kept hoping against hope that I was
mistaken. There have been times when I would have married you, willing
or unwilling, but I did n't love you so well then; and now that there's
another man in the case, it's different, and I'm strong enough to do the
right thing. Follow your heart and be happy; in a year or two I shall be
glad I had the grit to tell you so. Good-bye, Rose!"

Rose, pale with amazement, summoned all her pride, and drawing the
turquoise engagement ring from her finger, handed it silently to
Stephen, hiding her face as he flung it vehemently down the river-bank.
His dull eyes followed it and half uncomprehendingly saw it settle and
glisten in a nest of brown pine-needles. Then he put out his hand for a
last clasp and strode away without a word.

Presently Rose heard first the scrape of his boat on the sand, then
the soft sound of his paddles against the water, then nothing but
the squirrels and the woodpeckers and the thrushes, then not even
these,--nothing but the beating of her own heart.

She sat down heavily, feeling as if she were wide awake for the first
time in many weeks. How had things come to this pass with her?

Claude Merrill had flattered her vanity and given her some moments of
restlessness and dissatisfaction with her lot; but he had not until
today really touched her heart or tempted her, even momentarily, from
her allegiance to Stephen. His eyes had always looked unspeakable
things; his voice had seemed to breathe feelings that he had never dared
put in words; but today he had really stirred her, for although he had
still been vague, it was easy to see that his love for her had passed
all bounds of discretion. She remembered his impassioned farewells, his
despair, his doubt as to whether he could forget her by plunging into
the vortex of business, or whether he had better end it all in the
river, as so many other broken-hearted fellows had done. She had been
t