“Come on in—the water’s fine,” said Bess, making foaming eddies. “It’s rather dangerous—” “Oh, no!” interrupted the girl. “See, she can’t tip,” as she tried to convince him by her varied maneuvers. “Be serious a moment, Bess, and come out; I have something very important to tell you.” “Oh! I can’t come out with this rig on. Really, I can’t,” answered the girl. “I am in a hurry, but must talk with you while we are alone.” “Then tell me here. I can hear it—anything—begin,” humorously replied Bess, splashing vigorously. He deliberately stepped upon a large boulder which projected out of the water not far from the air-bed boat. “Bess,” he began seriously; and then added slowly as he held her eyes firmly with his own, “you and I are to be married next month—the fifteenth!” “Wh—,” came in a gasp to the girl’s parted lips; but no further sound could she utter. For a full moment she stared at the man standing so resolutely, as if he were a part of the very rock itself, his large, splendid form drawn to its full height, till he seemed like a giant towering above her. His eyes were intense with passion, and his voice trembled with emotion when he again repeated: “We are to be married in a month, dear. I am going away from this place, and you are going with me.” The astonished girl gave a nervous gasp as she cleared her throat, trying to make her words audible. “I do not seem to—to understand! I—am—to—go—away—go—with you?” she asked, as her face grew pale and her lips became almost blue. “Yes, dear—as my wife—I cannot go without you—I could not live without you now!” Stooping down he caught hold of the floating “boat,” which had drifted quite against the rock upon which he stood. Stretching forth the other hand he caught the girl by the arm and lifted her upon the rock close beside himself. The water from her soaked garments trickled down as he held her in a tight embrace. At length he ceased to blind and to smother her with ardent kisses, and whispered, “Tell me yes—yes!” “I’m—cold! Please go.” Her quivering form and blue lips accentuated her words. “First say that you love me—that you do care.” “Care? Oh! yes—I care! Love?—I do not know!” “When are you to return to the ranch? Shall I wait and come then for my reply?” asked Davis, earnestly; and Bess, hoping that her answer might cause him to hasten away, said eagerly: “Yes—do—tomorrow.” She did not resist the parting kiss, but her lips did not respond to his pressure. She heard him hurrying over the pebbles, heard him speak to his horse, knew that he had gone, but still she stood facing the lake, looking at, yet beyond the mountains. A feeling of numbness crept over her body and chilled her soul. A child’s voice calling aroused her from her lethargy, and with a quick bound she sprang forward and ran to the tent. After all, she had not been gone so very long, though it seemed as if an eternity had been crowded into the half hour.