ne shadow between us; do you know, Rex, I have been
thinking, if anything should ever happen to take your love from me I
should surely die. I--I am jealous of your very thoughts. I know I
ought not to admit it, but I can not help it."

Rex flushed nervously; it was really embarrassing to him, the tender
way in which she looked up to him--her black eyelids coyly drooping
over her dark, slumbrous eyes, inviting a caress. He was certainly
wooed against his will, but there was no help for it; he was forced to
take up his part and act it out gracefully.

"You need not be jealous of my thoughts, Pluma," he replied, "for they
were all of you."

"I wonder if they were pleasant thoughts?" she asked, toying with the
crimson flower-bells she holds in her white hands. "I have heard you
sigh so much of late. Are you quite happy, Rex?" she inquired,
hesitatingly.

The abruptness of the question staggered him: he recovered his
composure instantly, however.

"How can you ask me such a question, Pluma?" he asked, evasively; "any
man ought to be proud of winning so peerless a treasure as you are. I
shall be envied by scores of disappointed lovers, who have worshiped
at your shrine. I am not as demonstrative as some might be under
similar circumstances, but my appreciation is none the less keen."

She noticed he carefully avoided the word--love.

In after years Rex liked to remember that, yielding to a kindly
impulse, he bent down and kissed her forehead.

It was the first time he had caressed her voluntarily; it was not love
which prompted the action--only kindness.

"Perhaps you will love me some day with your whole heart, Rex?" she
asked.

"You seem quite sure that I do not do that now?" he remarked.

"Yes," she said, clasping his arm more closely, "I often fear you do
not, but as time passes you will give me all your affection. Love must
win love."

Other young girls could not have made such an open declaration without
rosy blushes suffusing their cheeks; they would have been frightened
at their free-spoken words, even though the morrow _was_ their
wedding-day.

She stood before him in her tall, slim loveliness, as fair a picture
as any man's eyes could rest on. She wore a most becoming dress, and a
spring blossom was in her hair. Almost any other man's heart would
have warmed toward her as she raised her dark eyes to his and the
white fingers trembled on his arm.

Rex was young, impulsive, and mortal; tender words