ir; but no such classic dream
came to the youth lingering among the shadows, ashamed to appear before
her, bestowing on her a dumb adoration, unformed and wordless.

Because his friend had maudlinly boasted that he was the better man in
her eyes, and could any day win her for himself, he had killed him.
Despite all the anguish the deed had wrought in his soul, he felt
unrepentant now, as his eyes rested on her. He would do it again, and
yet it was that very boast that had first awakened in his heart such
thought of her.

For years Cassandra had been as his sister, although no tie of blood
existed between them, but suddenly the idea of possession had sprung to
life in him, when another had assumed the right as his. Frale had not
looked on her since that moment of revelation, of which she was so
ignorant and so innocent. Now, filled with the shame of his deed and his
desires, he stood in a torment of longing, not daring to move. His knees
shook and his arms ached at his sides, and his eyes filled with hot
tears.

Quickly the sun dropped below the edge of the mountain. Cassandra drew a
long sigh, and the glow left her face. She looked an instant lingeringly
at the articles she had brought, and turned sadly away. Then he took a
step toward her with hands outstretched, forgetful of his shame, and
all, except that she was slipping away from him. Arrested by the sound
of his feet among the leaves, she spoke.

"Frale, are you there?" Her voice was low as if she feared other ears
than his might hear.

He did not move again, and speak he could not, for remembrance rushed
back stiflingly and overwhelmed him. Descrying his white face in the
shadow, a pity as deep as his shame filled her heart and drew her
nearer.

"Why, Frale, come out here. No one can see you, only me."

Still tongue-tied by his emotion, he came into the light and stood near
her. In dismay she looked up in his face. The big boy brother who had
taken her to the little Carew Crossing station only two months before,
rough and prankish as the colt he drove, but gentle withal, was gone. He
who stood at her side was older. Anger had left its mark about his
mouth, and fear had put a strange wildness in his eyes--but--there was
something else in his reckless, set lips that hurt her. She shrank from
him, and he took a step closer. Then she placed a soothing hand on his
arm and perceived he was quivering. She thought she understood, and the
soft pity moistened her