armed. I promised her to be back by--"

Gordon did not hear what the hour was, for she turned away her face and
began to cry quietly. She tried to brush the tears away with her
fingers; but one or two slipped past and dropped on her dress. With face
still averted, she began to feel about her dress for her handkerchief;
but being unable to find it, she gave it up.

There was something about her crying so quietly that touched the young
man very curiously. She seemed suddenly much younger, quite like a
little girl, and he felt like kissing her to comfort her. He did the
next thing.

"Don't cry," he said gently. "Here, take mine." He pressed his
handkerchief on her. He blessed Heaven that it was uncrumpled.

Now there is something about one's lending another a handkerchief that
goes far toward breaking down the barriers of conventionality and
bridges years. Keith in a moment had come to feel a friendliness for the
girl that he might not have felt in years, and he began to soothe her.

"I don't know what is the matter--with me," she said, as she dried her
eyes. "I am not--usually so--weak and foolish. I was only afraid my
mother would think something had happened to me--and she has not been
very well." She made a brave effort to command herself, and sat up very
straight. "There. Thank you very much." She handed him his handkerchief
almost grimly. "Now I am all right. But I am afraid I cannot walk. I
tried, but--. You will have to go and get me a carriage, if you please."

Keith rose and began to gather up his books and stuff them in his
pockets.

"No carriage can get up here; the pines are too thick below, and there
is no road; but I will carry you down to where a vehicle can come, and
then get you one."

She took a glance at his spare figure. "You cannot carry me, you are
not strong enough I want you to get me a carriage or a wagon, please.
You can go to the hotel. We are stopping at the Springs."

By this time Gordon had forced the books into his pocket, and he squared
himself before her.

"Now," he said, without heeding her protest; and leaning down, he
slipped his arms under her and lifted her as tenderly and as easily as
if she had been a little girl.

As he bore her along, the pain subsided, and she found opportunity to
take a good look at his face. His profile was clean-cut; the mouth was
pleasant and curved slightly upward, but, under the weight he was
carrying, was so close shut as to bring out the chin