, then at the other, perplexedly. Then she understood.
Like lightning, a terrible temptation flashed into her mind. The Italian
loved her, would shield, protect, honor her. Norman must hate her, would
always despise her. Should she lift her little weak woman's hand and
place it in the man's hand ready to claim it, or stand still and be
crushed by that other hand there?

Ah! she could not do it. She tried once. She held out weakly her right
hand toward Bero; but the left stretched itself involuntarily to Norman.
Then the two met in each other's pitiful clasp over her bent head, and
with a low wailing cry she fell in a little heap on the sand.

When she opened her eyes, they were both bending over her. "Take me
home," she gasped to Norman. He glared at the officer. "Go!" he said.
Bero put his hand to his sword. Mae sprang up. "No," she said, gently,
"no, my friend, for you have always been kind and friendly to me. Pray
go." Bero was touched by this. This little girl had taken only good from
him, after all, sympathy and friendliness. Norman was touched also with
the same thought. Then the officer smiled pleasantly. He shrugged his
shoulders slightly, regretfully, and bowed and rode away. And so the
clinking spurs and yellow moustaches and amorous eyes vanished from
Mae's sight.

As he rode off he was somewhat sorrowful; but he took a picture from his
pocket and looked at it. "She'll be glad to welcome me back again,"
he said to himself, pleasantly, "and she belongs to my own land. This
little foreigner might have pined for her own home, by and by." Then he
sighed and shook his head. "Alas! this little stranger will dance before
you often, still!" and he touched his eyes; "but I will put you back
in your place here, now." This he said, looking at Lillia's picture and
with his hand on his heart.

CHAPTER XIII.

"Take me home," said Mae again imploringly. "Not back there," as Norman
drew her hand through his arm and started for the hut, "O no, not even
for a minute."

"Sit here then," he replied quietly, "while I arrange it with the
woman," and he walked quickly away. Mae watched him till he entered the
low doorway, in a sort of subdued, glorified happiness, that would break
out over her shame and fear. She was afraid he would hate her, at least
she told herself so, but in reality, everything and everybody and every
place were fast fading out of this eager little mind. She and Norman
were together, and she could