Her eyes were turned away and she answered nothing.

"Beth," he said softly, "I have a more selfish reason for urging you—for I love you, Beth. I have loved you since we were children together. Will you be my own—my wife? It is a holy service I ask you to share. Are you ready, Beth?"

Her pale face was hidden in her hands. He touched her hair reverently. Tick! tick! tick! from the old clock in the silence. Then a crimson flush, and she rose with sudden violence.

"Oh, Arthur, what can you mean? I thought—you seemed my brother almost—I thought you would always be that. Oh, Arthur! Arthur! how can you—how dare you talk so? I am Clarence Mayfair's promised wife."

"Clarence Mayfair's—" The words died away on his white lips. He leaned upon the mantel-piece, and Beth stood with her grey eyes fixed. His face was so deathly white. His eyes were shaded by his hand, and his brow bore the marks of strong agony. Oh, he was wounded! Those moments were awful in their silence. The darkness deepened in the old parlor. There was a sound of voices passing in the street. The church bell broke the stillness. Softly the old calm crept over his brow, and he raised his face and looked at her with those great dark eyes—eyes of unfathomable tenderness and impenetrable fire, and she felt that her very soul stood naked before him. She trembled and sank on the couch at her side. His look was infinitely tender as he came toward her.

"I have hurt you—forgive me," he said gently, and he laid his hand on her head so reverently for a moment. His white lips murmured something, but she only caught the last words, "God bless you—forever. Good-bye, Beth—little Beth."

He smiled back upon her as he left the room, but she would rather he had looked sad. That smile—she could never forget it, with its wonderful sweetness and sorrow.

She sat motionless for a while after he left the room. She felt thrilled and numbed. There are moments in life when souls stand forth from their clayey frames and touch each other, forgetful of time and space. It was one of those experiences that Beth had just passed through. She went to her room and crouched down at her window beneath the stars of that autumn night. Poor Arthur! She was so sad over it all. And he had loved her! How strange! How could it have been? Loved her since they were children, he had said. She had never thought of love coming like that. And they had played together upon that meadow out there. They had grown up 

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