r a while they stood in silence under the spell of the scene's
enchantment, and then Victoria seated herself on the rock, and he dropped
to a place at her side.

"I thought you would like the view," she said; "but perhaps you have been
here, perhaps I am taking you to one of your own possessions."

He had flung his hat upon the rock, and she glanced at his serious,
sunburned face. His eyes were still fixed, contemplatively, on the Yale
of the Blue, but he turned to her with a smile.

"It has become yours by right of conquest," he answered.

She did not reply to that. The immobility of her face, save for the one
look she had flashed upon him, surprised and puzzled him more and more
--the world--old, indefinable, eternal feminine quality of the Spring.

"So you refused to be governor? she said presently,--surprising him
again.

"It scarcely came to that," he replied.

"What did it come to?" she demanded.

He hesitated.

"I had to go down to the capital, on my father's account, but I did not
go to the convention. I stayed," he said slowly, "at the little cottage
across from the Duncan house where--you were last winter." He paused, but
she gave no sign. "Tom Gaylord came up there late in the afternoon, and
wanted me to be a candidate."

"And you refused?"

"Yes."

"But you could have been nominated!"

"Yes," he admitted; "it is probable. The conditions were chaotic."

"Are you sure you have done right?" she asked. "It has always seemed to
me from what I know and have heard of you that you were made for
positions of trust. You would have been a better governor than the man
they have nominated."

His expression became set.

"I am sure I have done right," he answered deliberately. "It doesn't make
any difference who is governor this time."

"Doesn't make any difference!" she exclaimed.

"No," he said. "Things have changed--the people have changed. The old
method of politics, which was wrong, although it had some justification
in conditions, has gone out. A new and more desirable state of affairs
has come. I am at liberty to say this much to you now," he added, fixing
his glance upon her, "because my father has resigned as counsel for the
Northeastern, and I have just had a talk with--Mr. Flint."

"You have seen my father?" she asked, in a low voice, and her face was
averted.

"Yes," he answered.

"You--did not agree," she said quickly.

His blood beat higher at the question and the manner of her as