The Press., 1893-02-23

better in two centuries than in two months. But what is more to the point. l love you. love you without under standing you. love you so blindly and wildly that nothing could learn re- garding you could alter my love. So there is nothing to wait for. Will you marry me?'
 ':Give me the week of your absence" she said, almost gently. "Let me think. Alan; let me be sure."
 ''You mean leave you free to expert ment on Victor Forsyth while 1 am gone. You were on the point of engaging your self to me last evening when our talk was interrupted by Miss Eliot remind- ing you that it was time to leave. In the three minutes that l was away about the carriage you were introduced to Forsyth. You waltzed with him, and the whole tenor of your feeling changed"
 "If you believe that and still ask me to care for you, should despise you.'
 ''l believe am mad. 1 say things which only q madman would say. You are right to despise me. l ain glad you were frank. Pray go on, and say that woman can't love man for whom she feels contempt. But no; you need not say it. l will spare you the disagreeable task. Goodby. Miss Armadale. l ac- cept your rejection. will try to be man enough to endure my disappoint- ment."
 Alan She paused, standing in the shelter of the sand dune She put one hand to cover her eyes: the other she held toward the angry man who was turning from her. 'How unreasonable how violent you are! Do you expect me not to take second for refection?'' "I do not mean to be unreasonable, Hope. But love you till have no req son left,' he said, pausing. 5.
 "Take my hand. Let us he friends for a week more" @
 And after that?'
 He held her hand and leaned beside her against the sand wall Of the nlche within which they stood.
 Will nothing content you?''- "Nothing-but one kiss, Hope Ar1na- dale, from your sweet lips. Give me that and can wait for eternity. Let me have that to remember, and l will go away and stay till you recall me-till you say may come"
 She did not shrink from him or mock him. He wound an arm about her fair 1.-the form just as he might for waltz He stopped, and with his disengaged hand he held her head firmly. and so mouth to mouth they kissed each other with long silent kiss.
 II am content" said Craig with fash ing eyes. sI ask no moreno promise, no pledge-till you are ready to give it. am yours. It shall be for you to say when you will be mine." --.
 She pressed his hand ever so slightly.
 ''Let us go home now," she said with 8 vague alarm in her voice.
 Craig left her at the door. There was company in the parlor and he was in no mood for careless talk. He strode along the wet, dark beach and already began to reflect upon the nature of the bond which he had so eagerly ratified.
 That night Lucille Eliot went to her guests room after the latter was in bed.
 Hope" she said, "you are going too far with Alan Craig. Recollect, feel 8 responsibility in the matter" ,-# "Since men are fools, what can one do?'
 "One can be honorable, Hope."
 "Dear Lucille, don't preach to me. Nothing makes me so wicked as being preached to. Craig, thank Heaven, goes off tomorrow-to stay till l call him back. 1 never could have spared him but for his friend Forsyth's arrival. Now l must see what I can do with him." Miss Eliot sighed bitter little sigh. Forsyth had made brief call that even ing while Craig and Miss Ar1nadale were down on the beach, and had accepted an invitation to join horseback party for visit to an Indian encampment several miles from the beach next day.
 Miss Eliot had found this new ac- quaintance unusually agreeable. But she could not expect to hold the atten- tion of any agreeable man whom it amused Miss Armadale to firt with. Craig himself was such a flirt that the Eliots had regarded him and Hope as equally matched. But lately the serious ness of the affair had begun to annoy them in a way rather incomprehensible to persons to whom Miss Armadale was mere acquaintance of the season.
 The day of the visit to the encamp- ment was one of those strange days that come at the end of summer at the sea- shore-hot and still-with small copper sun in a gray sky.
 Miss Armadale had two escorts on the ride out-a couple of college boys-with whom she rode reclSlessly far in advance of the rest. Forsyth rode beside Miss Eliot. He serve, having found reasons for so do- ing. His mind was on her, but he almost ignored her when chance threw them to- gether.
 Lucille and he talked as tliey rode with implacable common sense. Forsyth had never talked such radical common sense with woman before. He quite liked it, except for the distracting thought of Miss Armadales beautiful form in the short green habit, flying flying along the sandy wood road under l the thin, sad trees-as trees are near the seashore.
 At the encampment they bought bas- kets and mats, which they fastened about their waists. and so went riding homeward.
 'What are you talking aboutg'' Miss eArmadale refined up suddenly alongside Forsyth and Miss Eliot, who were walk ing their horses as she put the question. 1 They were within two or three miles of the beach, and she had not succeeded in attracting his attention during the whole excursion
 Talking of what is best worth living for" answered Lucille seriously.
 "Why, fun. of course" returned Miss l Armadale.