The last few months had changed her life; changed it as only constant thinking, and suffering that must be hidden from the world, can change the life of a young girl.  She had been so intent on her own thoughts, so deep in her dreams that she had taken no heed of other people.  She did not know that those who loved her were always thinking of her welfare and would naturally see even a slight change in her.  With a sudden shock of surprise and pain she realized that to-day for the first time in a month she had played with the boys.  Sammy had asked her why she did not laugh any more.  Now she understood the mad antics of Tige that morning; Madcap’s whinney of delight; the chattering of the squirrels, and Caesar’s pranks in the snow.  She had neglected her pets.  She had neglected her work, her friends, the boys’ lessons; and her brother.  For what?  What would her girl friends say?  That she was pining for a lover who had forgotten her.  They would say that and it would be true.  She did think of him constantly.

With bitter pain she recalled the first days of the acquaintance which now seemed so long past; how much she had disliked Alfred; how angry she had been with him and how contemptuously she had spurned his first proffer of friendship; how, little by little, her pride had been subdued; then the struggle with her heart.  And, at last, after he had gone, came the realization that the moments spent with him had been the sweetest of her life.  She thought of him as she used to see him stand before her; so good to look at; so strong and masterful, and yet so gentle.

“Oh, I cannot bear it,” whispered Betty with a half sob, giving up to a rush of tender feeling.  “I love him.  I love him, and I cannot forget him.  Oh, I am so ashamed.”

Betty bowed her head on her knees.  Her slight form quivered a while and then grew still.  When a half hour later she raised her head her face was pale and cold.  It bore the look of a girl who had suddenly become a woman; a woman who saw the battle of life before her and who was ready to fight.  Stern resolve gleamed from her flashing eyes; there was no faltering in those set lips.

Betty was a Zane and the Zanes came of a fighting race.  Their blood had ever been hot and passionate; the blood of men quick to love and quick to hate.  It had flowed in the veins of daring, reckless men who had fought and died for their country; men who had won their sweethearts with the sword; men who had had unconquerable spirits.  It was this fighting instinct that now rose in Betty; it gave her strength and pride to defend her secret; the resolve to fight against the longing in her heart.

“I will forget him!  I will tear him out of my heart!” she exclaimed passionately.  “He never deserved my love.  He did not care.  I was a little fool to let him amuse himself with me.  He went away and forgot.  I hate him.”

At length Betty subdued her excitement, and when she went down to supper a few minutes later she tried to maintain a cheerful composure of manner and to chat with her old-time vivacity.