any
languages."

"Are you fond of the study--of languages? Did you succeed in French?"

"Fairly. And I can express my wants in German. Will you write to me
again?"

There was a flush now that was not sunburn; but she did not speak; she
seemed to be considering.

"Will you, Marjorie?" he urged, with gentle persistence.

"I--don't know."

"Why don't you know."

"I have not thought about it for so long. Let me see--what kind of
letters did you write. Were they interesting?"

"_Yours_ were interesting. Were you hurt because--"

It happened so long ago that she smiled as she looked up at him.

"I have never told you the reason. I thought Morris Kemlo had a prior
claim."

"What right had you to think that?"

"From what I heard--and saw."

"I am ignorant of what you could hear or see. Morris was my twin-brother;
he was my blessing; he _is_ my blessing."

"Is not my reason sufficient?"

"Oh, yes; it doesn't matter. But see that sumach. I have not seen
anything so pretty this summer; mother must have them. You wouldn't think
it, but she is very fond of wild flowers."

She stepped aside to pluck the sumach and sprays of goldenrod; they were
growing beside a stone wall, and she crossed the road to them. He stood
watching her. She was as unconscious as the goldenrod herself.

What had her mother meant? Was it all a mistake? Had his wretched days
and wakeful nights been for nothing? Was there nothing for him to be
grieved about? He knew now how much he loved her--and she? He was not a
part of her life, at all. Would he dare speak the words he had planned to
speak?

"Then, Marjorie, you will not write to me," he began afresh, after
admiring the sumach.

"Oh, yes, I will! If you want to! I love to write letters; and my life
isn't half full enough yet. I want new people in it."

"And you would as readily take me as another," he said, in a tone that
she did not understand.

"More readily than one whom I do not know. I want you to hear extracts
from one of Mrs. Holmes' delicious letters to-night."

"You are as happy as a lark to-day.

"That is what mother told me, only she did not specify the bird. Morris,
I _am_ happier than I was Sunday morning."

He colored over the name. She smiled and said, "I've been thinking about
him to-day, and wanting to tell him how changed I am."

"What has changed you?" he asked.

Her eyes filled before she could answer him. In a few brief sentences,
sentences in which eac