romise even for the most distant future?"

"I can't," she replied, faltering a little as she saw him turn deadly
white. "If there were any engagement between us, I should have to tell
my father of it; and that would only make our trouble his and defeat my
whole object. Oh, Brian, forgive me, and just leave me. I can have given
you nothing but pain all these years. Don't let me spoil your whole
life!"

His face caught something of the noble purpose which made hers shine in
spite of the sadness.

"Darling," he said quickly, "I can thank God for you though you are
never to be mine. God bless you, Erica."

There was a moment's pause; he still kept her hands in his.

"Tell your father I've gone for a walk over to those hills that I shall
not be home till evening." He felt her hands tremble, and knew that he
only tortured her by staying. "Will you kiss me once, Erica?" he said.

She lifted a pale steadfast face and quivering lips to his, and after
that one long embrace they parted. When he turned away Erica stood quite
still for a minute in the arena listening to his retreating footsteps.
Her heart, which had throbbed painfully, seemed now only to echo his
steps, to beat more faintly as they grew less audible. At last came
silence, and then she crept up to the place where she had left her
sketch book and paint box.

The whole world seemed sliding away aching desolation overwhelmed her.
Brian's face with its passion and pain rose before her dry, burning
eyes. Then darkness came, blotting out the sunshine; the little stream
trickling into its stony basin seemed to grow into a roaring cataract,
the waters to rush into her ears with a horrid gurgling; while the
stones of the amphitheatre seemed to change into blocks of ice and to
freeze her as she lay.

A few minutes later she gasped her way painfully back to life. All was
very peaceful now; the water fell with its soft tinkling sound, there
was a low hum of insects; beside her stony pillow grew some stars of
Bethlehem, and in between their delicate white and green she could see
the arena and the tiers of seats opposite, and out beyond the green
encircling hills. Golden sunshine lighted up the dark pines and
spirelike cypresses; in the distance there was an olive garden, its
soft, gray-green foliage touched into silvery brightness.

The beauty of the scene, which in her struggle had seemed to weaken and
unnerve her, stole now into her heart and comforted her; and all th