gure and
poise, with dark eyes that fascinated rather than attracted and a
bearing of confidence begotten of five years of triumphal success in
business ventures and real-estate transactions; a man to whom men
would look in a crisis; a man whom most men obeyed instinctively and
one to whom women felt drawn although deep down in their hearts they
were strangely afraid of him.

He held Eileen with his eyes.

"There is something I wish to ask you some day, Eileen. May I?"

"Nothing serious, I hope, Mr. Brenchfield?" she returned lightly, for
she at least had never acknowledged any submission to those searching
eyes of his. "And please remember, it is past midnight. My father
isn't here."

"Serious!--yes!" he returned, ignoring her admonition, "but some day
will do."

"It is an old story;--some day may never come, good sir!"

He smiled indulgently.

Eileen, despite her apparent unconcern, placed her hand over her heart
as if to stay a fluttering there.

Mayor Brenchfield was a young man, a successful man; to many women he
would have been considered a desirable man.

He professed friendship with Eileen's father. He put business her
father's way. He was of the same political leanings. He had met Eileen
on many occasions. Brenchfield was a tremendously energetic man; he
seemed to be everywhere at once.

Eileen, like other women, could not help admiring him for his forceful
handling of other men, for his keen business acumen, for his almost
wizardly success.

He had many qualities that appealed strongly to the romantic in her
youthful nature; but, girl-like, she had not stopped at any time to
analyse the feelings he engendered in her.

And now, up there on the hill, in the chill of the night air, under
the stars that hung so low and prominently that one felt one might
almost reach up and pluck them from the heavens,--now there came a
sudden dread.

It was this inexplicable dread that set her heart athrob.

Brenchfield took her hand from her bosom and patted it gently.

His touch annoyed her. She drew away imperiously, and she shivered.

"Why, little woman!--you are cold and it is very late. How thoughtless
of me! Good night, Eileen!"

"Good night!" she returned wearily, closing the door.

The moment he heard the bolts shoot home, Brenchfield's whole nature
changed. An oath came to his lips. He crushed his hat down on his
head, leapt the fence and rushed headlong by the short cut down
through the orchard