She raised her eyes to his, and after a moment said, “I am sure. But what difference can it make to you? I shall never see you again.” Jack could not reply at once. He turned partly away and looked out across the waters. As Ethel glanced at him she saw that his face was ashen. She feared that he was vexed and would again say something cross to her. She remembered the feeling that had come over her once before when she was with him. At the sight of his sad face her thoughts became those of pity; and she fell to wondering why friends have to part. She came close to his side, and, laying a hand on his arm, said, pleadingly, “You must not be angry with me to-day; indeed you must not. Why, your arm is shaking as if you were cold.” “Yes,” replied Jack, in a low, trembling voice. “Oh, Ethel, Ethel, can you not see—can you not understand that I love you? My heart is beating for you with fierce hammer strokes through every fibre of my being. I have no words to express myself, but I know, yes, before God, I know that I love you better than my own life.” Tears stood in Ethel’s eyes, and in their startled surprise Jack read that his impassioned declaration had been too sudden. “Oh,” sobbed Ethel, as she bowed her head to hide her tears, “if daddy were only here.” “Forgive me—forgive me for speaking, if I have offended you, but the thought of your going away from me, perhaps forever, quite unmanned me.” Lifting one of her trembling hands, he kissed it passionately. “Forget me, Ethel, forget me to-morrow, if you will, but only tell me before we part that I am forgiven.” “No, no,” said Ethel, between her sobs, “I am sure there is nothing to forgive. Oh, I cannot understand this strange feeling that has taken possession of me. If daddy were only here so I could talk to him. I am afraid to speak to mamma.” “Well, do not speak to her,” said Jack, soothingly, “but when you reach your home tell your father, if you will, and, if you can give me your love, write me and I will come to you at once.” “It is good of you to say that,” said Ethel, still sobbing, “I really believe I love you now.” Jack was about to throw to the winds all his good resolution of giving her time to decide, and he would have taken her in his arms then and there, and claimed her for his own forever, had not a colored boy from the hotel interrupted them. “Beg your pardon, miss,” said he, “but Mrs. J. Bruce-Horton wished me to say would you please come to her.” Jack dropped a piece of silver in the boy’s hand, and said, “Please say to Mrs. Horton that Miss Ethel will come very soon.” They turned and walked slowly, side by side, along the path, in the now uncertain light, toward the hotel, enjoying love’s first awakening. Presently Jack spoke.