The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-01-21
CHAPTER II.

H.
 "Max! Is that you, at last? Oh, my dear old boy, how late you are And how wet! You bad boy, you had not your ulster. But I can't scold, l am so glad to see you; I have really been quite anxious"
 Muriel held up her face for her usual kiss, and he kissed her, because he said to himself-it was for the last time; but he knew in his heart that he could no more have refused than he could have struck her.
 Then she told him that he would find dry clothes by the fire, in his room, and he must be very quick, be- sides, there was pleasant surprise awaiting him.
 Then Philip came into the hall. And here was a new trouble-for Philip believed him to be a false friend, scheming lover, and must al- ways believe so-for he would never defend himself at the cost of Muriel's shame. He felt as bitterly humiliated as if there had been cause for such belief; he scarcely dared to hold out his hand; he saw all the color leave Philip Mays face in the effort of self control; he saw the contempt in his eyes, and felt him shrink as their hands touched, and Max knew he had lost his friend forever.
 Somehow the evening passed. It bewildered Max that the other two bore it so we'll. How could Philip sit at table with such one as he believed his host to be? "Philip, dear friend, for my sake, for my sake." An, yes that made it easy, of course.
 So Philip talked about Japan, where he had spent the last two years, about tea growing and Japanese art. And Muriel listened and laughed and was interested and all the while it seemed to Max as horrible as jests and laugh ter and happy, careless speech in the presence of death.
 At last the evening was over. Max went to the door with his friend, and then came back to the room.
 Muriol was kneeling before the fire, holding her hands toward it; the red light shone through them, making the fingers half transparent. She was singing softly as he entered.
 Let him look, let him listen for one moment; let him see her sweet face, fair and untroubled, before he covered it with unutterable shame; let him hear that dear voice sing only once more before he heard it sobLing in vain repentance.
 She stopped singing.
 Pm glad Philip has gone, Max, though he is your friend and very en- tertaining. We are happiest by our selves, are we not, darling? But you look so tired tonight. Are you i'll? Have you taken cold?"
 He had not known it would be so hard to speak. He seemed to have no words, no voice. She was beside him now, her soft hands in his, her head on his shoulder.
 "Max, my dear old boy, what is wrong? Your hands are like ice; you must be ill: or are you annoyed about anything? Don't mind it, dear, what ever it is. It is not about Mr. May, is it? Max, you can't be -I I mean you don't think anything foolish dpouI hiiIi, uO yOu!
 l am not jealous, if that is what you were going to say. could not think anything ill of Philip, and it would go near to break my heart if fancied he thought i'll of me-"
 Would that make her speak? Would | she ask in astonishment what he meant, and tell him indignantly that he had misheard, misunderstood? | Heaven grant she might No, with | her face turned from him, but her hands in his, she answered lightly that no one could possibly think ill of her dear, perfect boy.
 So beautiful, so winning, SO won- derfully sweet and lovable, SO dear, SO close to him, and yet, when he had spoken, heaven and he'll would not be more apart than they would be.
 She went on trying like child to coax him into cheerfulness, telling him he had certainly taken cold; he must go to bed, and she would bring him some hot wine, and he might be little i'll for day or two if he liked not enough to frighten her, only long enough to see what a nice nurse she | would be.
 Then at last he could bear it no longer. He drew back from her and tried to speak; he struggled with his voice; he caught his breath like a frightened child; he tried to look at her, but saw only her face as it had been raised in her false pleading to Philip May. Her voice was ringing in his ears, but he did not know if she | said :"I love you, Max, only you ;" or Philip, dear fried, for my sake" Then her voice changed to a scream, and servants came into the soon, and | were helping him up stairs, while