Even Marjorie had been captivated by him, it appeared. The relationship which was beginning to thrive between them he disliked, and some day he would make that known to her. How attentive he had been to her was easily recognizable, but to what degree she returned this attention was another matter. What she thought of this stranger and to what extent he had impressed her, he longed to know, for it was weeks since he had laid eyes on her; and the last two attempts made by him to see her had found her in the company of Anderson, once at Shippen's, and again on a ride through the country. True, he himself had been absent from town for a brief time, immediately after his court-martial, when he returned to headquarters to file a report with his Commander-in-chief, and the few moments spent with her upon his return was the last visit. Undoubtedly he was a stranger to her now; she was absorbed with the other man. Still Stephen wished that he might see her. An insatiable longing filled his whole soul, like the eternal cravings of the heart for communion with the Infinite. There was certain situations where a man or woman must confide in some person to obtain advice or sympathy, or simply to unload the soul, and there was no one more becoming to Stephen than this girl. She understood him and could alleviate by her sole presence, not through any gift properly made, but by that which radiated from her alone, the great weight which threatened to overwhelm his whole being. Simply to converse with her might constitute the prophecy of a benign existence. He determined to see her that very evening. III "Marjorie," said Stephen, "of course you've a perfect right to do exactly as you like. But, you know, you did ask my opinion; didn't you?" "I did," said Marjorie, frowning. "But I disagree with you. And I think you do him a grave injustice." She had been seated in a large comfortable chair in the middle of the side yard when he entered. A ball of black yarn which, with the aid of two great needles, she was industriously engaged in converting into an article of wearing apparel, lay by her side. Indeed, so engrossed was she, that he had opened and closed the gate before her attention was aroused. She rose immediately, laying her knitting upon the chair, and advanced to meet him. "I haven't seen you in ages. Where have you been?" He looked at her. "Rather let me ask that question," was his query by way of reply. "Already twice have I failed to find you." They walked together to the chairs; she to her own, he to a smaller one that stood over against them. "That you called once, I know. Mother informed me." "You were similarly engaged on both occasions." He brought his chair near to her. "With Mr. Anderson?" She smiled straight in his face. "Of course." He, too, smiled. "Well!" then after a pause, "do you object?" He did not answer. His fingers drummed nervously on the arm of his chair and he looked far up the road.