Chapter XXIV - Page 2

choose only one--a very hard thing to do--possibly."

"Not hard," said she, "if I see the right one--and--and--he loves me also."

I had kept myself well in hand, for I was full of doubts that day; but the clever girl came near taking me, horse, foot, and guns, that moment. She spoke so charmingly, she looked so winning, and then, was it not easy to ask if I were the lucky one? She knew I loved her, I knew that she had loved me, and I might as well confess. But no; I was not ready.

"You must be stern with the others; you must not let them tell you," I went on.

"Ciel!" said she, laughing, "one might as well go to a nunnery. May not a girl enjoy her beauty? It is sweet to her."

"But do not make it bitter for the poor men. Dieu! I am one of them, and know their sorrows."

"And you--you have been in love?"

"Desperately," I answered, clinging by the finger-tips. Somehow we kept drifting into fateful moments when a word even might have changed all that has been--our life way, the skies above us, the friends we have known, our loves, our very souls.

She turned, smiling, her beauty flashing up at me with a power quite irresistible. I shut my eyes a moment, summoning all my forces. There was only a step between me and--God knows what!

"Captain, you are a foolish fellow," said she, with a little shudder. "And I--well, I am cold. Parbleu! feel my hand."

She had drawn her glove quickly, and held out her hand, white and beautiful, a dainty finger in a gorget of gems. That little cold, trembling hand seemed to lay hold of my heart and pull me to her. As my lips touched the palm I felt its mighty magic. Dear girl! I wonder if she planned that trial for me.

"We must--ride--faster. You--you--are cold," I stammered.

She held her hand so that the sunlight flashed in the jewels, and looked down upon it proudly.

"Do you think it beautiful?" she asked.

"Yes, and wonderful," I said. "But, mark me, it is all a sacred trust--the beauty you have."

"Sacred?"

"More sacred than the power of kings," I said.

"Preacher!" said she, with a smile. "You should give yourself to the church."

"I can do better with the sword of steel," I said.

"But do not be sad. Cheer up, dear fellow!" she went on, patting my elbow with a pretty mockery. "We women are not--not so bad. When I find the man I love--"

Her voice faltered as she began fussing with her stirrup.

I turned with a look of inquiry, changing quickly to one of admiration.

"I shall make him love me, if I can," she went on soberly.

"And if he does?" I