III.

"I SWEAR I won't do anything of the kind!" burst out Arnold in ungovernable rage. The sudden revulsion of feeling had been too much for him. He was mad with disappointment; a moment before he had been sure she was going to ask him to marry her. An unfaltering "Yes" was on his lips then she had cruelly dashed his hopes to the ground adding insult to injury by proposing that he should bring his friends up in review before her and stand by while she bestowed her lovely, gracious, incomparable self upon one of the creatures, - no, he would see every one of them laid out in cold death first.

She was still waiting for some reply from him. The soft, dark eyes looked puzzled, the flush faded from her fair cheeks as she looked at his white, angry face. He longed to seize her in his arms, to kiss her a hundred times and entreat her to be his wife, but he dared not; he feared to lose all. He felt that his only safety lay in flight, for he could not stay in her presence and refrain from pouring out his wild passion. The door was farther off than the long, open window, and she stood near the door. He dashed out through the window, upsetting in his headlong flight the pitcher of agua nevada and shattering the frail Venetian goblet into a thousand pieces.

For three days he courage to go near her.

could not summon He wandered about the mountains, lost to all desire of the chase and with no interest whatever in fishing. His views on the ideal primitive woman underwent a change. He thought VOL. XI.-3.

Nature ought to have implanted in the breast of every girl, civilized or savage, an intuitive knowledge of what love is, so that she would recognize a lover when she had one before her eyes. One moment it seemed to him the height of good fortune to have found such a beautiful, intelligent maiden, fresh, unsullied by flattery, ignorant of the world; and in the next instant he was regretting that very ignorance, since it raised a barrier between them, which he did not know how to pass.

Meanwhile, time was going and the father would soon be back from Vera Cruz. It seemed hardly honorable to win the daughter before even making his acquaintance; but it might be impossible afterward, for a man who would hide away a lovely girl like that in the mountains of Central America and bring her up in such a strange manner, would be capable of going to any extreme to keep her from marrying that must be his main purpose through it all.

Arnold finally decided that as he could not leave off loving X if he tried, and as he had not the slightest wish to try, he would not deny himself the pleasure of seeing her as much as he could. Perhaps she might learn to care for him a little then when the father appeared, whether he were man or ogre, he would ask him for his daughter, as a man of honor should; and if he refused and the girl loved him, he would take her anyhow, as a man of honor should.

When he had made these resolutions he took heart of grace and went to see her, after what seemed an absence of three months instead of three days. He apologized as best he could for his ungentle speech and abrupt departure. Apparently she bore him no ill will for either, but accepted them as a

part of the ways of strangers from the unknown world.

She was dressed that day all in black, with a lace mantilla on her head and a rose in her hair; she carried an immense black fan which she swayed with true Castilian grace. She asked no more about marriage customs, much to his disappointment. He could not know that she had thought of nothing else all the three days, but had decided to wait for her father's return before seeking further information, her guest had such a way of getting unexpectedly angry. Doubtless she annoyed him by her foolish questions.

She sang Spanish airs to him; and though they breathed only of war and bull-fights, still the music of her voice lent them a charm greater than that of any love song he had ever heard. Then he sang to her a few of the most romantic serenades he could recall. She listened with all her heart and eyes, and said when he had finished: "Those are not like any songs I know, but I like them well. You say much about the moon and stars of a summer night, I have no ballads to the moon, but I shall compose some and sing them to her; she is very fair when she sails in her full radiance through the fleecy clouded heavens. I like her too when she shows only a silver crescent. Sometimes when I sit alone out there in the arbor gazing at her and everything is still except for the plash of the water and the calls of the birds to their mates, a strange feeling of sadness and longing comes over me. I cannot explain it. I wonder if others feel so. Father told me once that it was n't good for girls to look too much at the moon. I suppose he was speaking in a parable," she added sighing deeply.

"Indeed? You may come some night next week and we will both contemplate her. Perhaps we shall be inspired to write a beautiful hymn in her praise."

Arnold inwardly doubted whether his inspiration would take that turn, but he promptly accepted the invitation.

"You speak also," continued X, "of a lady's eyes closed in slumber, but I cannot quite gather from the drift of the poem whether you wish to wake her or have her keep on sleeping."

The

"This kind of song," carefully explained the young man, "is called a serenade. lover comes at night and stands beneath the lady's window and sings. He prays that sweet slumber may close her eyes and that dreams of him may visit her pillow; but he really hopes she will waken and throw him down a rose."

"I should do so," said the girl with sweet frankness; "then I should come down myself and thank him."

Mr. Arnold greatly regretted that he had not brought his violin along with him instead of his fishing-pole, it would have been so much more useful; then he wondered what kind of musical instrument he could find among the Indians.

His

They spent that day and many another like it in reading and conversation and music. They strolled through the forest, they wandered by the lake shore, they gathered flowers and ferns and mosses. eyes looked love to eyes that spake not again, though a vaguely troubled light began to shine in them at times. Fearing still to vex him by any show of the ignorance that now weighed heavily upon her soul, she forbore from all questions; but he continued to give her a great deal of uncalledfor information about love and lovers. It never seemed to occur to him that there were other subjects on which she needed as much enlightenment. He might have filled her hungry mind with broad general truths about religion and politics, but he did not.

He came every day with great punctuality as soon as the Indians at the camp had given him his breakfast, and he never went away till twilight. He had scruples at first about such long visits; he knew they were somewhat unconventional. But Miss X seemed so unfeignedly glad to see him that he stifled what little conscience love had left in his breast. Household cares claimed some of her time, but the rest she gave to him without reserve.

Sometimes he would find her arrayed in pink and blue satin with pearls and foamy lace, her powdered hair high on her head like some marquise of the court of Louis XV; then she would insist on talking French all day. Again she would be a Japanese girl or an Italian peasant, her moods varying with her dress. He liked her best of all in the white Greek costume; and on the day after he told her so he saw with pleasure that she had resumed it. The Spanish dress made her stately and unapproachable, as a Japanese she was a trifle uncanny and outlandish, the peasant garb was not rich enough, and as a French marquise she reminded him too strongly of the society belle he could find any day in his native city; but in the plain, soft-falling folds of the Greek robe she was a fair statue slowly warming into life, a beautiful work of nature, not of fashion.

On the first night the moon was full he stayed for the evening, reminding her of her suggestion that they should gaze together at the silvery orb. They sat in the vine-covered arbor near the fountain, where the water fell in light sprays over a marble naiad; the gentlest of breezes bent the tall garden lilies and stirred the jasmine blossoms over their heads and it was evening, it was moonlight, it was summer. Poets and romancers from time immemorial have noticed that the union of these elements is dangerous in the case of a young man and a young woman. Neither Arnold nor the girl went on with

--

the business with which they had come out there. Neither could think of a word to say. He gazed at her at the dark, lustrous eyes, the wavy black hair, the curves of her bare arms, the scarlet flowers rising and falling on her breast; not one detail of her loveliness was lost upon him. She forgot that she had meant to compose a hymn of praise to the moon; she even forgot to look at it. Her lap was full of roses, she began to pull them to pieces, scattering the petals in pink showers at her feet. Her eyes avoided his and her silence seemed constrained. They had sat together many a time before speechless for long minutes and the quiet had never troubled them, but now things seemed different. She wondered why her heart throbbed so; he felt that he ought not to have tried this fatal experiment until he had spoken to her father.

The moon continued to look down upon them in bland indifference, and the silence grew absolutely ghastly; it would have been a positive relief to both of them if one of the nearest mountain peaks had broken out in a volcanic eruption. The rose leaves fell faster and faster under her trembling fingers, and seeing them he was suddenly inspired,

it would be better to say anything than to keep up this horrible quiet.

"Miss X, your tearing those flowers to pieces reminds me of Marguerite in the garden trying the daisy spell."

"Tell me about her; I have never met her in my reading," she said without looking at him.

"No, I suppose not. She was a German peasant maiden, very gentle and beautiful, with blue eyes and long braids of yellow hair. She is not sure whether Faust cares for her so she picks a star-eyed daisy to try her fate.

"""He loves me," whispers she, as in her fingers
She takes a petal and then lets it fall-
"Loves me little-madly," here she lingers,
But sighs with the last petal, "Not at all,
He loves me not at all."'

"Ah-O-I don't suppose she thought of that; in fact, it is not the usual I mean she preferred to find it out by the flower. ""He loves me - loves a little- loves me madly!" Like flakes of snow the petals softly fall, Till one alone remains; then very sadly She plucks the petal, sobbing, "Not at allHe loves me not at all!": "To be perfectly sure one must try this charm three times, if the first and second have been disappointing. Marguerite does so, quite unaware that her lover stands near watching her.

"""He loves me," and the teardrops almost blind her,

As with her tears the tiny petals fall.

"He loves thee!" cries a well known voice behind her,

He loves thee madly - loves thee in all
He loves thee all in all!""" ""

"Then she cried no more," remarked X, "and her future happiness is assured. I am glad it went well with her."

Arnold recalled a picture he once saw of Marguerite in prison, a black, hopeless figure lying prone, clutching with despairing fingers at the cold stone of the floor and he was silent.

"Here is a bunch of daisies growing right at my feet; see, they are waiting for me! Now hear me try the spell."

As she stooped for the flowers, she did not notice a dark shadow gliding behind the shrubbery near the arbor.

"But I forgot - I have no lover!" she suddenly exclaimed, impressed by the absence of this important item.

Arnold obligingly threw himself into the emergency. "O, just for the sake of the charm you might try'

وو

There was a heavy step on the grass, a tall figure strode up directly in front of the

"O, dear, dear father, I'm so glad to see you; I" but he pushed her away from him and held her hard by the arm.

Arnold writhed at the insult to himself, but he mastered his rage and answered calmly "I am no thief. I came here by accident. I was hunting in the forest two or three weeks ago, and your daughter found me wounded and took me to your house." He met the father's eye squarely.

"You seem to have recovered from your hurt; why are you still here?"

It was depressing to carry on such a dialogue with a would-be father-in-law in the presence of the girl to whom he had not yet declared himself; but there was no help for it. "I found the society of your daughter pleasant, and I staid to have the honor of your acquaintance."

Edward Munroe swore under his breath and took a step towards the young man with his fist clenched; then he turned to his daughter, "X, go into the house!" he sharply ordered.

"Father, I will not," she answered with quiet determination.

His eyes blazed with passion as he looked from one to the other. Neither shrank from his gaze. "How much have you been fooling with this girl?" he demanded.

"I do not 'fool' with women," said Arnold haughtily. "I have come here to see her every day, if that is what you mean. Ι have not told her I love her, but I do with all my heart and soul, and I ask you to give her to me for my wife."

The earnest, manly tones checked for a

She raised her eyes timidly to the face bent so fiercely upon her: the skies might well fall when her father looked like that. Desdemona was not placed in half so trying a position. Desdemona had a husband, and besides she knew her own feelings. But X was ignorant of the fair Venetian's line of defense; no heroine of romance could help her with a precedent. Another love than a father's, a love she could not understand, struggled for expression and made a cruel conflict in her maiden heart.

"Why do you not answer me? Why do you keep me waiting?"

The gaze of both men was fixed eagerly upon her; the father's eyes threatened, the lover's implored. She covered her face with her hands and sank down upon the ground sobbing out wildly, "Why haven't I a mother to tell me what to do? Other girls have mothers!"

Bitter words for the father to hear! They brought back afresh the shame of twenty years gone by and wrung his soul with the old agony. The sight of her tears was more than Arnold could endure. He rushed forward to raise her; but the father stopped him. "Keep back, sir, or I'll kill you! The girl is mine and you or any other man shall never have her!"

He lifted her to her feet and held her half tenderly against his breast, waiting for her sobs to subside. "Now, X, settle this thing quickly. I cannot think that in three short weeks you have learned to care more for this man than for the one who has loved you all your days. Tell him to go and leave us to each other."

She wiped the last tears away and withdrew from his embrace. "Father," she said with a grave, simple dignity, "you have kept from me the knowledge that a woman

has other duties besides those to her father; you have said there was no other happy love; you left it to a stranger to tell me that a time comes to every girl when she leaves the father for a husband and makes a new home. All women have acted thus as far back as history goes, the ignorant and the intelligent, the barbarous and the civilized, queens and peasants, he told me so". with a sweet, shy gesture toward Arnold which filled that young man with rapture unspeakable. "I am not different from others; Nature made us all alike; and — and I want to do as all the rest have done. It must be good or else the custom would not have been kept up so long!" She stammered over the last sentences and blushed crimson, for Arnold was drinking in her words as though they were a revelation from heaven.

"O, X, I have lost you!" groaned her father in despair.

"No indeed! they go fight on loving their fathers just the same."

"But I will not share you with anybody : you are all I have in the world. I came to this lone place to bring you up in seclusion that you might be safe and happy; there is a curse on our race that forbids us to hope for love in marriage. You know nothing. about this man. You shall not throw yourself away upon him."

Arnold interposed. "Mr. Munroe, I have friends in San Francisco, who can satisfy you as to my respectability. My whole life. is open to your inspection. No parent has a right to interfere when his child's future is at stake. It is pure selfishness. I can make your daughter happy and I will. Miss X, will you marry me?

And X left her father's side, walked up to the young man, put her hand in his for a second, then turned and fled into the house. Arnold drew a deep breath of satisfaction and relief: the primitive woman could be relied upon!

He could make no impression upon the father, either that night or at any future in