we not make that covenant before? Life is not so long, nor
happiness so common, that we can afford to trifle away two years of it.
I wish you had told me when I last came here of that old photograph of
mine in your album."

"But this is not a new covenant. It is only an old one mended. We were
always good friends until you quarrelled and ran away."

"That was not my fault, Marian."

"Then it must have been mine. However, it does not matter now."

"You are right. Prometheus is unbound now; and his despair is only a
memory sanctifying his present happiness. You know why I called on your
father this morning?"

"It was to see the electro-motor in the city, was it not?"

"Good Heavens, Marian!" he said, rising, "what spirit of woman or spirit
of mischief tempts you to coquet with me even now?"

"I really thought that was the reason--besides, of course, your desire
to make papa amends for not having been to see him sooner after your
return."

"Marian!" he said, still remonstrantly.

She looked at him with sudden dread, and instinctively recognized the
expression in his face.

"You know as well as I," he continued, "that I went to seek his consent
to our solemn league and covenant, as you call it. If that covenant were
written on your heart as it is on mine, you would not inflict on me this
pretty petty torture. Your father has consented: he is delighted. Now
may I make a guess at that happy secret you told me of yesterday, and
promised I should know one day?"

"Stop! Wait," said Marian, very pale. "I must tell you that secret
myself."

"Hush. Do not be so moved. Remember that your confession is to be
whispered to me alone."

"Dont talk like that. It is all a mistake. My secret has nothing to do
with you." Douglas drew back a little way.

"I am engaged to be married."

"What do you mean?" he said sternly, advancing a step and looking down
menacingly at her with his hand on the back of his chair.

"I have said what I mean," replied Marian with dignity. But she rose
quickly as soon as she had spoken, and got past him into the
drawing-room. He followed her; and she turned and faced him in the
middle of the room, paler than before.

"You are engaged to _me_," he said.

"I am not," she replied.

"That is a lie!" he exclaimed, struggling in his rage to break through
the strong habit of self-control. "It is a damnable lie; but it is the
most cruel way of getting rid of me, and therefore the one most
congeni