ed once the
most natural of intimacies. I--I loved you so dearly--so fearlessly--"

Tears blinded her; she bent her head, and they fell on the soft delicate
stuff of her gown, flashing downward in the sunlight.

"Dear," he said gently, "nothing is altered between us. I love you in
that way, too."

"D-do you--really?" she stammered, shrinking away from him.

"Truly. Nothing is altered; nothing of the bond between us is weakened.
On the contrary, it is strengthened. You cannot understand that now. But
what you are to believe and always understand is that our friendship
must endure. Will you believe it?"

"Y-yes--" She buried her face in her handkerchief and sat very still for
a long time. He had risen and walked to the farther end of the veranda;
and for a minute he stood there, his narrowed eyes following the sky
flight of the white gulls off Wonder Head.

When at length he returned to her she was sitting low in the swing, both
arms extended along the back of the seat. Evidently she had been waiting
for him; and her face was very grave and sorrowful.

"I want to ask you something," she said--"merely to prove that you are a
little bit illogical. May I?"

He nodded, smiling.

"Could you and I care for each other more than we now do, if we were
married?"

"I think so," he said.

"Why?" she demanded, astonished. Evidently she had expected another
answer.

He made no reply; and she lay back among the cushions considering what
he had said, the flush of surprise still lingering in her cheeks.

"How can I marry you," she asked, "when I would--would not care to
endure a--a caress from any man--even from you? It--such things--would
spoil it all. I _don't_ love you--that way. . . . Oh! _Don't_ look at me
that way! Have I hurt you?--dear Captain Selwyn? . . . I did not mean
to. . . . Oh, what has become of our happiness! What has become of it!"
And she turned, full length in the swing, and hid her face in the silken
pillows.

For a long while she lay there, the western sun turning her crown of
hair to fire above the white nape of her slender neck; and he saw her
hands clasping, unclasping, or crushing the tiny handkerchief deep into
one palm.

There was a chair near; he drew it toward her, and sat down, steadying
the swing with one hand on the chain.

"Dearest," he said under his breath, "I am very selfish to have done
this; but I--I thought--perhaps--you might have cared enough to--to
venture--"

"I do care;