The Press., 1894-05-31

rain had now ceased. The clouds were lifting off the mountain peaks and the mists driving down the valleys before the freshening wind, while keen Gilver radiance, the forerunner of the coming sunlight, glittered in meadow and tree top.
 Ralph Monckton. proceeding at an easy canter, pulled up his horse sharply. A girl. also on horseback. turned into the road few paces beyond him. He recognized her with sudden tightening at the heart, and at the same moment she saw him, bowed and blushed beau tifuIly. Monckton had not seen her since the day of the riot at the mines, and it seemed to him that there was a new sweetness and seriousness in her face, something more gentle and less willful in her manner.
 She spoke first. ''The storm has kept me in the house so long that seized the first moment to get out. ," Then she looked at him anxiousiy. You are pale, Ralph. They told me you had en- tirely recovered.
 Thanks, he said indiTerently, 1T am we'll enough. But it is not for the sake of my health that am out. !" Then he told her of Turner's visit and what the man had reported.
 But you are not going down among those men again after the way they treated you when you went there last? Oh, Ralph!'' She uttered his name 1frrL hn checked her horse and compelled him to do the same. Why are you doing this?'' she asked gravely. "Is it fool ish bravado, Ralph? Are you never go- ing to forgive me because I was cruel and conceited?'
 He answered her look with one of sur prise. You cruel and conceited? There was no such thought ill my mind, l as- sure you. I was not thinking of you when I started, except--except as I al- ways do now-that is, I wish to act in me act-no,'' he said quickly, perceiv- ing that she averted her face, ''do not fear that l am going to presume upon your kindness to me- That is all over now" He sighed deeply. ''I have seen how utterly unworthy l am. am not trying to touch your heart, lmogene, with the hypocritical cant of repentance, which is worse than any other kind of cant. Indeed I don't know whether a man can repent of being fool or not, and I was not much worse than that. Anyway, during the long days while l lay in bed I had an opportunity of go- ing back over my life and examining myself impartially. Well, he laughed bitterly, "the results have been edify- ing, but not agreeable. There,' he ex- claimed, impatiently shaking his head, ''that sounds like wounded vanity, but it isn't. What 1 mean, Imogene, is just this-honestly and sincerely, I know that am not fit to be the husband of conquer my love for you, and I do not wish to. It will remain with me always as my better angel and keep mo from ever again falling into that old way of life which l now look back upon with detestation. But shall never speak of it after today, and if you will let me see you sometimes as friend you need not fear the lurking suitor in me, or that will pass as suffering martyr. Will you believe me, Imogene? Will you take me at my word?'
 Ralph" {" there was moisture in tn ! eyes she, raised to his, forgive me-"
 Freely and fully. But for what?"
 "For my hardness and self suf6ciency wanted to wake you up. It was right and best for you, but I could have done it more kindly. I spoke in spirit of pride and intolerance. Icould have led you gradually to it..
 "No, think not,'' he replied. II was too sound asleep, too besotted. It needed the shock. Don't reproach your self, Imogene, for in my heart and soul owe you nothing but gratitude.'
 And you will come to see me as be- fore, Ralph?'' ....--
 Tt will not be the same man, Imo- gene, but will gladly come.''