All in an instant Betty pressed close to him, hiding her face in his arm; she clung to him in a panic of pain and horror. She felt something stir within her that had never been there before, as a storm of passionate longing swept through her. Her words, her promise to another man, became as nothing. All her pride was forgotten. Without this man the days stretched away before her a blank. His arm drew her closer still, until she felt her heart throb against his. “Do you care?” he said, and seemed to wonder that she should. “Bruce, Bruce, I didn't know--and now--Oh, my dear, my dear--” He pressed his lips against the bright little head that rested in such miserable abandon against his shoulder. “Do you love me?” he whispered. The blood ran riot in his veins. “Why have you stayed away--why didn't you come to me? I have promised him--” she gasped. “I know,” he said, and shut his lips. There was another silence while she waited for him to speak. She felt that she was at his mercy, that whether right or wrong, as he decided so it would be. At length he said. “I thought it wasn't fair to him, and it seemed so hopeless after I came here. I had nothing--and a man feels that--so I kept away.” He spoke awkwardly with something of the reserve that was habitual to him. “If you had only come!” she moaned. “I did--once,” he muttered. “You didn't understand; why did you believe anything I said to you? It was only that I cared--that in my heart I knew I cared--I've cared about you ever since that trip down the river, and now I am going to be married to-morrow--to-morrow, Bruce--do you realize I have given my promise? I am to meet him at the Spring Bank church at ten o'clock--and it's tomorrow!” she cried, in a laboring choked voice. For answer he drew her closer. “Bruce, what can I do?--tell me what I can do.” Carrington made an involuntary gesture of protest. “I can't tell you that, dear--for I don't know.” His voice was steady, but it came from lips that quivered. He knew that he might have urged the supreme claim of his love and in her present desperate mood she would have listened, but the memory of Norton would have been between them always a shame and reproach; as surely as he stood there with his arms about her, as surely as she clung to him so warm and near, he would have lived to see the shadow of that shame in her eyes. “I can not do it--I can not, Bruce!” she panted. “Dear--dear--don't tempt me!” He held himself in check. “I am going to tell you--just this once, Bruce--I love you--you are my own for this one moment out of my life!” and she abandoned herself to the passionate caressing with which he answered her. “How can I give you up?” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. He put her from him almost roughly, and leaning against the trunk of a tree buried his face in his hands. Betty watched him for a moment in wretched silence.