w back her arm and flung the
miniature far from her in the direction of the river. On a sudden there
was a splash, a gulp of the waters, and a little commotion as they
hurriedly came together and folded over their prey.

"Marjorie!" he shouted making an attempt to restrain her. It was too
late.

"What have you done?" he asked.

She displayed her empty hands and laughed.

"Forever!" she repeated, opening her arms with a telling gesture. "I
never should have accepted it, but I was strangely fascinated by it, I
suppose."

For the moment neither spoke; he felt as if he could not speak; and she
looked like a child, her cheeks aglow with the exertion, and her eyes
alight with merriment. Stephen looked intently at her and as she
perceived his look, a very curious change came across her face. He saw
it at once, although he did not think of it until afterwards.

"Marjorie," he said as he moved nearer to her and slipped his arm very
gently about her. "You must have known for the longest time, from my
actions, from my incessant attentions, from my words, the extent of my
feeling for you. It were idle of me to attempt to give expression to it.
It cannot be explained. It must be perceived; and you, undoubtedly, have
perceived it."

There was no response. She remained passive, her eyes on the ground,
scarcely realizing what he was saying.

"I think you know what I am going to say. I am very fond of you. But you
must have felt more; some hidden voice must have whispered often to you
that I love you."

He drew her to him and raised both her hands to his lips.

She remonstrated.

"Stephen!" she said.

He drew back sadly. She became silent, her head lowered, her eyes
downcast, intent upon the hands in her lap. With her fingers she rubbed
away the caress. She was thinking rapidly, yet her face betrayed no
visible emotion, whether of joy, or surprise, or resentment. Only her
cheek danced with a ray of sunshine, a stolen reflection from the joyous
waves.

"Marjorie," he said gently, "please forgive me. I meant no harm."

She made a little movement as if to speak.

"I had to tell you," he continued. "I thought you understood."

She buried her face in her hands; her frame shook violently. Stephen was
confused a little; for he thought that she had taken offense. He
attempted to reassure her.

"Marjorie. Please.... I give you my word I shall never mention this
subject again. I am sorry, very sorry."

She dried her eyes