Year: 1873




so L have" answered Victor, smiling
in turn; 'but it is no fault OF mine that
have not been able to speak to you; l have
found no opportunity"


You are really going to Egypt:"


les, L am going to Egypt Why
should | stay? What has life 10 offer me
here save vegetation? There, at least,
can find action"


"Oh, what good thing it is to be
MANI she said. How free YOU are
how able to do what you please and go
where you please-to seek action and to
find it! Oh, Major Clare, you ought to
thank God night and day that He did not
make you woman!'


Il am glad, certainly, that I am a man."
said Victor, honestly, But YOU are the
last woman i'll the world from whom
should have expected to hear such rebel
lious sentiments"


Il am not rebellious," said Eleanor
more quietly. what is the good of III?
All the rebellion in the world could not
make me man; and | have no fancy TO
be an unseXed woman. But nobody was
ever more weary Of conventional routine,
nobody ever longed more for freedom and
action than | do'


1t was on the end of Victor's tongue to
say, Then come with me to Egypt" but
he caught himself in time. Was he mad
to imagine that 'the beautiful Miss Mil.
bourne"-a woman at whose feet the most
desirable matches of society" had been
laid--would end her brilliant career bv
marrying soldier Of fortune, and expa-
trlatlng herself from her country and her
Kindred? lie gave grim sort of smile
which Eleanor did not quite understand,
as he said: "Where is your lotos 1t ought
to make you more content with the things
that be-"


Il have it," Eleanor said with child
like simplicity. Mr. Brent remember
ed and brought it to me- | have not for
gotten my promise to share it with you"


Take 1t TO the mountain tomorrow
night, then" said he quickly. 'Let US
eat 1t together there. | should like to link
y0u even with my farewell to the past"


And, since an interruption came lust
then, they parted with this understand
ing.


The next day Major Glare was standing
on the terrace of Claremont-a stately,
solldly-built old house, bearing itself with
an air of conscious pride and disdain of
modern frippery, despite certain signiti-
cant signs OF decay when his guests ar
rived i'll formidable procession.


They had paused in square near the
heart OF the garden-a green, shaded
spot, i'll the center of which an empty
basin bore witness to departed fountain,
though no pleasant murmur of water had
broken the stiffness for mary long day.
Round the margin of this still ran "a seat,
on which Eleanor sat down. Victor re
manned standing before her. A lime tree
near by cast soft, tiickering shadow over
them, and the tall hedges of evergreen
which enclosed the square Isade II sornber
but effective background.


\ on see that ruin and decay are all
that | have to offer you here" Victor was
saying with a cadence of bitterness in
his voice. But if you had courage enough
to end the life which you despise, to cut
loose from all the ties which bind YOU in
America, and 90 with me TO Egypt, there
| might have future and career for you
to share-ttere, at least, you would find
freedom and action and life.''


A flush came to Eleanor's cheek, and a
light cleaned suddenly in her eyes, as if
the very wildness of this proposal lent it
fascination; but she shook her head,
smiling little sadly. "You are of my
world she said; you ought to know
better than that. | must do what is eX-
pected of me, and | am expected to marry
Marston Brent"


Forget the world and come with me-"


'Ihat is impossible. If | had only my
self to care for, | would; but there are
others of whom | must think" She was
silent for moment, then looked up at
him piteously. They have sacrificed 50
much for me at home,n she said land
they are so proud Of NE. They hope, de-
sire, count on this marriage; | cannot dis
appoint them. Mr.. Brent himself has
been most kind and patient, and he does
not expect very mach. | am a coward,
perhaps, but what can | do?"


Again he said, "You can come with
me-"


Again she answered, ut is impossible
DO you not see that it is impossible?
Starting forth on new career, it would
be insane for you 10 burden yourself with
a wife. As for me, | am no more fit to
marry poor man than to be a housemaid.
Victor, it is hopeless. For Heavens sake,
let US talk of it no longer! The only thing
we can do is to forget that we have ever
talked OF it at ALL"


"Will that be easy for you? | confess
that nothing on earth could be harder for
me-"


''No, it will not be easy, but shall try
W III an III oti iISllI W ttO IL NOu oHlN
knows" putting her hand suddenly to
her face, chow / shall live if i am not
able to do it.'


ARE you going to marry him?"


Have | not told you so ~


He turned from her and took one short,
quick turn across the square.


When he came back she rose to meet
him.


Let US go,' she said. "By prolonging
this we only give ourselves useless pain.
All is said that can be said. Nothing re
mains now but to forget; and that can
best be done in silence, Victor, let us
60"


If you will not think me fanciful-I
am sure you will not think me presump-
tuOus-prOmise me that before you give
that man his answer you will share the
lotos with me of which you have spoken.
| may be superstitious, but | feel as if we
shall gain new strength with which to
face the future after we have together re-
nounced the past"


She shook her head. II am not super
stitious enough to think that it will en-
able Us to forget one pang," she said.
But if you desire it, promise"


When the evening collation. was over
Mr.. Brent asked Eleanor if she would not
accompany him to the eastern side of the
mountain to see the moon rise. While
she hesitated, uncertain what to say,