raint chafed and fretted him, for her as much as for himself. It
was absurd that a girl of twenty-five and a man of thirty should not
have some little independence of thought and action. The silence
persisted and finally became awkward.

"It's the book," said Rosemary, with a forced laugh. She was
endeavouring to brush her mood away as though it were an annoying
cobweb. "I've grown foolish over the book."

"I'm glad you liked it," he returned, taking it from her. "I was sure
you would. What part of it did you like best?"

"All of it. I can't choose, though of course some of it seems more
beautiful than the rest."

"I suppose you know it by heart, now, don't you?"

"Almost."

"Listen. Isn't this like to-day?"

"Spring's foot half falters; scarce she yet may know
The leafless blackthorn-blossom from the snow;
And through her bowers the wind's way still is clear."

Rosemary got to her feet unsteadily. She went to the brow of the hill,
on the side farthest from the vineyard, and stood facing the sunset.
Scarcely knowing that she had moved, Alden read on:

"But April's sun strikes down the glades to-day;
So shut your eyes upturned, and feel my kiss----"

[Sidenote: Alden Speaks]

A smothered sob made him look up quickly. She stood with her back to
him, but her shoulders were shaking. He dropped the book and went to
her.

A strange, new tenderness possessed him. "Rosemary," he whispered,
slipping his arm around her. "What is it--dear?"

"Nothing," she sobbed, trying to release herself. "I'm--I'm tired--and
foolish--that's all. Please let me go!"

Something within him stirred in answer to the girl's infinite hunger, to
the unspoken appeal that vibrated through her voice. "No," he said, with
quiet mastery, "I won't let you go. I want to take care of you,
Rosemary. Leave all that misery and come to me, won't you?"

Her eyes met his for an instant, then turned away. "I don't
quite--understand," she said, with difficulty.

"I'm asking you to marry me--to come to mother and me. We'll make the
best of it together."

Her eyes met his clearly now, but her face was pale and cold. She was
openly incredulous and frightened.

[Sidenote: Her Birthright]

"I mean it, dear. Don't be afraid. Oh, Rosemary, can't you trust me?"

"Trust you? Yes, a thousand times, yes!"

He drew her closer. "And love me--a little?"

"Love you?" The last light shone upon her face and the colour surged
back i