“But I meant what I said,” replied Jack, in his habitual positive tone, “and what’s more I can’t help it. Love is the only thing in life that can’t be regulated. It comes and goes unbidden. To work or to be idle, to be kind-hearted or cruel, to accustom ourselves to outdoor or indoor lives is ours to decree, but to love or not to love is beyond the power of any human being, and right at this moment I am loving you more than I ever loved any one in all my life. “What causes this great love,” he continued philosophically, “I am at a loss to know. Candidly I should much prefer to love Sarah, because I believe she loves me, and besides she is not encumbered with a husband.” “Walter is not an inc----.” “Tell me honestly, Betty dear,” interrupted Jack, “do you want me to love you, or must I go away?” “I think you must go away.” But she wished he would not take her at her word. “When?” “I--I don’t know,” she stammered, restraining her tears. “But you care, don’t you? Admit it, do admit it. Admit it so that I can go back to my work and accomplish something.” He had not yet felt the sting of a troubled conscience, nor did he realize that the inconstancy of his friend was drawing a cloud around her life that might never be cleared away. Betty stepped closer to the man, who had so dominated her will. She looked straight into his compelling eyes, and the words which she wanted to say failed her. She felt that she could not see him go from her, yet she knew that there was no comparison between him and her husband; that her husband possessed all the qualities of a strong and good man that the other man lacked. Walter sat reading the morning paper. Jack paced slowly up and down on the veranda. The family gathered for breakfast. Betty appeared in a fresh yellow muslin, relieved by a snow white collar and sash. As she descended the stairs Walter laid aside the paper. “Aren’t you going to church, dear?” he asked. “I thought you would be ready by this time.” “Can we leave Jack?” her heart jumping at the mere mention of his name. “Make him go along,” responded Walter. “He doesn’t like church; and especially on a day like this, I am sure he would rather be out of doors.” “Oh, well there is lots for him to do--ride, play golf, anything he likes. We’ll be gone but a short time.” “Can’t we worship in the open today? It’s so wonderful out-of-doors.” “It is wonderful,” replied Walter, drawing out Betty’s chair for her, “and it does seem hard to shut one’s self up on a day like this. But there is no getting around it--there are certain duties we owe to the Creator of these wonderful days, and there is only one day in the week on which we can openly pay them. If I evade them I am conscious all the week of having neglected my duty. It’s all right, dear, to say let’s worship in the open, but we just don’t do it. Once off, that’s the end of it.”