Then Betty fell to watching for the lights at New Madrid, her elbows resting on the rail against which she was leaning, and the soft curve of her chin sunk in the palms of her hands. She wondered absently what Judith would have said of this river-man. She smiled a little dubiously. Judith had certainly vindicated the sincerity of her convictions regarding the importance of family, inasmuch as in marrying Ferris she had married her own second cousin. She nestled her chin a little closer in her palms. She remembered that they had differed seriously over Mr. Yancy's defiance, of the law as it was supposed to be lodged in the sacred person of Mr. Bladen's agent, the unfortunate Blount. Carrington, with his back against a stanchion, watched her discontentedly. “You'll be mighty glad to have this over with, Miss Malroy--” he said at length, with a comprehensive sweep toward the river. “Yes--shan't you?” and she opened her eyes questioningly. “No,” said Carrington with a short laugh, drawing a chair near hers and sitting down. Betty, in surprise, gave him a quick look, and then as quickly glanced away from what she encountered in his eyes. Men were accustomed to talk sentiment to her, but she had hoped--well, she really had thought that he was, superior to this weakness. She had enjoyed the feeling that here was some one, big and strong and thoroughly masculine, with whom she could be friendly without--she took another look at him from under the fringe of her long lashes. He was so nice and considerate--and good looking--he was undeniably this last. It would be a pity! And she had already determined that Tom should invite him to Belle Plain. She didn't mind if he was a river-man--they could be friends, for clearly he was such an exception. Tom should be cordial to him. Betty stared before her, intently watching the river. As she looked, suddenly pale points of light appeared on a distant headland. “Is that New Madrid?--Oh, is it, Mr. Carrington?”' she cried eagerly. “I reckon so,” but he did not alter his position. “But you're not looking!” “Yes, I am--I'm looking at you. I reckon you'll think me crazy, Miss Malroy-presumptuous and all that but I wish Memphis could be wiped off the map and that we could go on like this for ever!--no, not like this but together--you and I,” he took a deep breath. Betty drew a little farther away, and looked at him reproachfully; and then she turned to the dancing lights far down the river. Finally she said slowly: “I thought you were--different.” “I'm not,” and Carrington's hand covered hers. “Oh--you mustn't kiss my hand like that--” “Dear--I'm just a man--and you didn't expect, did you, that I could see you this way day after day and not come to love you?” He rested his arm across the back of her chair and leaned toward her. “No--no--” and Betty moved still farther away. “Give me a chance to win your love, Betty!” “You mustn't talk so--I am nothing to you--”