Aileen Armagh heard that call, and doubt, suspicion, anger dropped away
from her. Instead, trust, devotion, anticipation clothed her thought of
him; he was coming to speak the "word" that was to make her future fair
and plain--the one "word" that should set him forever in her heart,
enthrone him in her life. That word was not "love", but the sacrament
of love; the word of four letters which a woman writes large with
legitimate loving pride in the face of the world. She sprang to her feet
and waited for him; the willows drooped on either side of her--so he saw
her again.

He took her in his arms. "Aileen--Aileen," he said over and over again
between the kisses that fell upon her hair, forehead, lips.

She yielded herself to his embrace, passionately given and returned with
all a girl's loving ardor and joy in the loved man's presence. Between
the kisses she waited for the "word."

It was not forthcoming.

She drew away from him slightly and looked straight into his eyes that
were devouring her face and form. The unerring instinct of a pure nature
warned her against that look. He caught her to him--but she stemmed both
hands against his breast to repulse him.

"Let me go, Champney," she said faintly.

"Why should I let you go? Aileen, my Aileen, why should I ever let you
go?" A kiss closed the lips that were about to reply--a kiss so long and
passionate that the girl felt her strength leaving her in the close
embrace.

"He will speak the 'word' now surely," she told herself. Between their
heart-throbs she listened for it.

The "word" was not spoken.

Again she stemmed her hands against him, pressing them hard against his
shoulders. "Let me go, Champney." She spoke with spirit.

The act of repulsion, the ring in her voice half angered him; at the
same time it added fuel to desire.

"I will not let you go--you love me--tell me so--"

He waited for no reply but caught her close; the girl struggled in his
arms. It was dawning on her undaunted spirit that this, which she was
experiencing with Champney Googe, the man she loved with all her heart,
was not love. Of a sudden, all that brave spirit rose in arms to ward
off from herself any spoken humiliation to her womanhood, ay more, to
prevent the man she loved from deepening his humiliation of himself in
her presence.

"Let me go" she said, but despite her effort for control her voice
trembled.

"You know I love you--why do you repel me so?"

"Let me go," she