“I will reply to your question by asking another; and, if it seems impertinent, remember that it is not so intended, and that I do not ask it from any vulgar feeling of curiosity.”

“You can ask nothing impertinent, Mr. Castrani,” she replied, earnestly.

“Thank you.  I do not intend to.  Are you betrothed to Archer Trevlyn?”

She grew very pale, but her eyes met his fearlessly.

“I was once.  But it is all over, now,” with a dreary sigh, that was like the breath of the autumn wind through the dead leaves.

“Before you left New York—­was it over before that?”

“Yes, before I left New York.  It was why I left there.  I cannot tell you how it was—­I can never tell any human being.  But a terrible necessity arose which forced us apart.”

“Did he—­did Arch Trevlyn desert you, Miss Harrison?” asked Castrani, his brow contracting, his dark eyes glowing with indignation.

“No; it was my hand that severed the engagement.  Do not blame him for that.  It was impossible that it should be fulfilled.”

“You, Miss Harrison?  You broke the engagement?” he asked, eagerly.

Perhaps she read something in the beautiful hope that sprung up in his heart from the glad light in his eyes, and she crushed it at once.

“Yes, I. But not because I had ceased to love him.  No, no.  He was—­is—­and will be always, the one love of my lifetime.  I shall never love another.  Now, I have trusted in you—­be frank and free with me.”

“Well—­since you ask it, Mr. Trevlyn and Miss Lee are to be married in September.”

“To Miss Lee—­married to Miss Lee?  Great Heaven!  And she is aware of his—­What am I saying?  What did I say?  O, Mr. Castrani, excuse me—­I am so—­surprised—­” She groped blindly for something to cling to, fell forward, and he received her senseless form in his arms.

He held her silently, a moment, his face wearing a look of unutterable love and sadness; then he put her down on the grass, and brought water in a large leaf from the stream.  He bathed her forehead, tenderly as a mother might, murmuring over her words of gentleness and affection.

“My poor Margie! my poor little darling!”

He pressed the little icy hands in his, but he did not kiss the lips he would have given half his life to have felt upon his.  He was too honorable to take advantage of her helplessness.  She revived after a while, and met his eyes, as he knelt beside her.

“Are you better?” he asked, gently.

“Yes, it is over now.  I am sorry to have troubled you.  I must depend on you to go to the house with me.  Nurse Day will be glad to welcome you.  And I must ask you not to alarm her by alluding to my sudden illness.  I am quite well now.”

He gave her his arm, and they went up to the house together followed by Leo.

* * * * *