The Benson signal., 1917-04-21

him in the moonlight.
"And If you were not doing this"
said he, making the proper return, II
might not have had the courage to tell
you."
"You haven't told me anything-in
Words" she answered, fain to hear
from his lips what she well knew from
the beating of his heart.
"It's not too late then to tell you
that I love you, that am yours. To
give myself to you seems to be the
highest possibility in life, if you will
only take me-"
"And do you love me more than the
bridge?"
"More than all the bridges in the
world, past, present and to come; more
than anything or anybody. I tell you
I never knew what love was or what
life was until saw you sliding to your
death. IF I had not succeeded should
have followed you."
"I felt that, too," she answered
dreamily.
"We must go back, dearest" he said
at last, II am so fearful for you even
now that am almost unwilling to try
it. Every time glance down through
these interspaces between the string
ers my blood runs cold"
/ "You supported me before; will
support you now," laughed the woman.
woman.
"No," said the man, "we will go to-
gether."
They turned toward the shore. He
took her hand and slipped his other
arm about her just as simply and nat
urally as if they had been any humble
lover and his lass in the countryside.
By and by they got to the end of the
bridge. Far down the platform they
could see the lights Of the car.
'Listen," she said as they walked
slowly along. "You must not tell IA
ther anything about this little acci-
dent"
II obey, but why not?"
''It would only worry him, and it
was my fault"
"No, mine."
''I will not hear you say it."
''But I must speak to your father
about"
"And the sooner the better; he is in
good humor with you and the bridge
now. I have heard him speak we'll of
you. believe he will be glad to give
me to you"
"And if not?'
81 should hate to grieve my father,
but"
She turned and looked at him in the
moonlight, her glorious golden head,
her neck, her shoulders, her arms bare
and beautiful in the celestial illumi-
nation. He seized her hand and lifted
it to his lips as a devotee, and she un-
derstood the reason for the little touch
of old-world formality and reserve,
when naught hut his will prevented
him from taking her to his heart and
making her lips, her eyes, her face, his
own.
"Now may God deal with me as I
deal with you," he said fervently, "if I
ever fail at least to try with all my
up to your sweetness and light"
"My prayer for myself, too," she
whispered.
"You need it not"
"You must wait here" she said,
deeply touched, as they had now
reached the steps Of the car, until I
have changed my dress; father would
notice - anybody would - that tear.
When have finished I will come back
to you and then we will seek him and
tell him."
Accordingly Meade stood obediently
waiting outside the car in the shadow
it cast. There was no one about. The
servants had gone to bed. The porter
Of the car was nodding in his quarters,
waiting for the time to turn out the
lights. The engineer had the long
platform all to himself. After a time
he chose to walk quietly up and down,
thinking. The future looked very fair
to him.
"Bert," a sweet voice came to him
out of the darkness. He turned to dis
cover her standing in the door Of the
car dressed as she should have been
for such an excursion had she at first
followed her fathers wise suggestion.
His heart thrilled to the use Of the fa-
miliar name. "Bert, I'm coming down
to you"
Hand in hand they walked to the
rear Of the car, where the observation
platform was still brightly lighted. Alb
bott had gone and the other three men
were on their feet. They were about
to separate for the night, although it
was still rather early.
Father" said his daughter out Of
the darkness.
"Oh, you're there" answered the
colonel. II wondered when you were
coming back. I was just thinking Of
going to fetch you. Is Mr.. Meade"
"I'm here, sir"
"GoOd night, gentlemen" said the