nces of the coming sun pierced the breasts of
the soaring gray clouds, and, behold, they grew to be the most
splendid orange and red and purple. The stars began to pale, and as he
came to the eastern slope where the plain stretched to dim splendor,
like a motionless sea of russet and purple, the sun was rising.

The plain seemed lonely and desolate of life, so far below was it. All
action was lost in the mist of immensity--men's stature that of the
most minute insects. And down there in the pathway of the morning was
the little woman of all the world waiting for him!

As he rode down the slope to the river level into the town the sun was
swinging, big and red, high above the horizon. His long ride had made
him look wan and pale, but he ordered coffee and a biscuit, and was
glad to find it helped him to look less wan and sorrowful. He dressed
with great care, then sat down to wait. At 7:30 o'clock he sent a note
to her:

"I have not forgotten. When do you breakfast?"

She replied:

"Good-morning, dearest. Breakfast is ready; come as soon as
you can."

He entered the room with the heart of a boy, the presence of an
athlete. He was at his prime of robust manhood, and his physical pride
was unconscious.

She was proud of him, and met him more than half way in his greeting.
Her face was still slender and delicate of color, but in her eyes was
a serene brightness, and her lips were tremulous with happiness.

She led him to the little table. "Now you mustn't call this
breakfast," she explained. "This is a private cup of coffee to sustain
us through the ordeal. We all breakfast immediately after the
ceremony."

"I've had one breakfast this morning."

She looked dismayed.

"At least a roll and a cup of coffee," he hastened to explain.
"However, I think I could eat all there is here and not be
inconvenienced."

They sat down and looked at each other in silence. She spoke first.

"Just think, this is the last time you will ever sit down with Miss
Ross."

"You seem to be sad about it."

"I am--and yet I am very happy. I don't suppose you men can
understand, but a woman wants to marry the man she loves--and yet she
is sad at leaving girlhood behind. Now let me see, you take two lumps,
don't you? I must not forget that. It makes the waiter stare when a
wife can't remember how many lumps of sugar her husband takes."

He felt his courage oozing away, and so began abruptly:

"Ellice, I have a story