avine. He had not been down there since the winter road had broken
up, and he found Treasure Valley all a wonder of purple and gold--where
the violets carpeted the banks and the marigolds choked the stream.
Down in the fragrant stillness the sounds of the village grew faint and
far away. Here was only the murmur of the water over the white stones,
or the even-song of the vesper sparrows in the sumachs along the banks.
As Gilbert came down to the water's edge he spied another figure
approaching from the opposite bank, a slim figure in a white gown, with
a crown of hair that rivaled the golden blossoms in the stream. He
hesitated a moment, then crossed over to her.

"May I help you across?" he asked with a stiff formality he would not
have used a few weeks previous.

The minds of both recurred to their first meeting in this very spot, a
little more than a year before.

"I hope you will not object to my company for that length of time," he
added, finding it impossible to keep something of his grievance out of
his voice.

"Oh, no, certainly not," she stammered, not knowing how to truthfully
refute his implied charge.

There was that look of distress in her eyes that filled him with
compunction. When they reached the other side he stood and looked down
at her with the old feeling that, somehow, he was all in the wrong, and
she entirely right.

"Won't you tell me what I have done to offend you?" he asked abruptly.

A deeper rose color came to her cheeks. This was just the question she
was dreading. "I--I--nothing," she stammered incoherently.

"Then won't you tell me why you treat me so?" His indignation had
vanished; his tone was very humble. "I cannot help seeing that you
have changed, and I have done nothing, I _could_ do nothing, wittingly,
to hurt you."

"You have not done anything to offend _me_," she said in a low tone,
with a slight accent on the pronoun.

"Then what has changed you? We are not good friends any more?" His
voice was inquiring.

She would have given much to contradict him, but her nature was
essentially honest, and she breathed the low answer, "No."

"I feared it, I knew it; but don't you think you might, at least, tell
me the reason?" He was surprised at his own meekness.

The girl looked down into the murmuring, brown Water. Something arose
in her throat and threatened to choke her. If he would only not be so
humble. If he were haughty and indignant, her task would be muc