I actually said those identical words! And then I broke down and sobbed. Irene, I _blubbered_! His manner altered in an instant--I could see that much through my fingers and hair. He dropped on one knee beside me, parted the tangle of hair and said in the tenderest way: "My poor girl, God knows I have not intended to pain you. How should I?--I who love you--I who have loved you for--for years and years!" He had pulled my wet hands away from my face and was covering them with kisses. My cheeks were like two coals, my whole face was flaming and, I think, steaming. What could I do? I hid it on his shoulder--there was no other place. And, O my dear friend, how my leg tingled and thrilled, and how I wanted to kick! We sat so for a long time. He had released one of my hands to pass his arm about me again and I possessed myself of my handkerchief and was drying my eyes and my nose. I would not look up until that was done; he tried in vain to push me a little away and gaze into my face. Presently, when all was right, and it had grown a bit dark, I lifted my head, looked him straight in the eyes and smiled my best--my level best, dear. "What do you mean," I said, "by 'years and years'?" "Dearest," he replied, very gravely, very earnestly, "in the absence of the sunken cheeks, the hollow eyes, the lank hair, the slouching gait, the rags, dirt, and youth, can you not--will you not understand? Gunny, I'm Dumps!" In a moment I was upon my feet and he upon his. I seized him by the lapels of his coat and peered into his handsome face in the deepening darkness. I was breathless with excitement. "And you are not dead?" I asked, hardly knowing what I said. "Only dead in love, dear. I recovered from the road agent's bullet, but this, I fear, is fatal." "But about Jack--Mr. Raynor? Don't you know--" "I am ashamed to say, darling, that it was through that unworthy person's suggestion that I came here from Vienna." Irene, they have roped in your affectionate friend, MARY JANE DEMENT. P.S.--The worst of it is that there is no mystery; that was the invention of Jack Raynor, to arouse my curiosity. James is not a Thug. He solemnly assures me that in all his wanderings he has never set foot in Sepoy. THE EYES OF THE PANTHER I ONE DOES NOT ALWAYS MARRY WHEN INSANE A man and a woman--nature had done the grouping--sat on a rustic seat, in the late afternoon. The man was middle-aged, slender, swarthy, with the expression of a poet and the complexion of a pirate--a man at whom one would look again. The woman was young, blonde, graceful, with something in her figure and movements suggesting the word "lithe." She was habited in a gray gown with odd brown markings in the texture. She may have been beautiful; one could not readily say, for her eyes denied attention to all else. They were gray-green, long and narrow, with an expression defying analysis. One could only know that they were disquieting. Cleopatra may have had such eyes.