“What are you staring at?” she said finally. “Why don't you help me on?” “Where do you want to go?” said Rand quietly. “Where! Up there!”--she pointed savagely to the top of the mountain,--“to HIM! Where else should I go?” she said, with a bitter laugh. “I've told you he wasn't there,” said Rand roughly. “He hasn't returned.” “I'll wait for him--do you hear?--wait for him; stay there till he comes. If you won't help me, I'll go alone.” She made a step forward but faltered, staggered, and was obliged to lean against the mountain for support. Stains of travel were on her dress; lines of fatigue and pain, and traces of burning passionate tears, were on her face; her black hair flowed from beneath her gaudy bonnet; and, shamed out of his brutality, Rand placed his strong arm round her waist, and half carrying, half supporting her, began the ascent. Her head dropped wearily on his shoulder; her arm encircled his neck; her hair, as if caressingly, lay across his breast and hands; her grateful eyes were close to his; her breath was upon his cheek: and yet his only consciousness was of the possibly ludicrous figure he might present to his brother, should he meet him with Mornie Nixon in his arms. Not a word was spoken by either till they reached the summit. Relieved at finding his brother still absent, he turned not unkindly toward the helpless figure on his arm. “I don't see what makes Ruth so late,” he said. “He's always here by sundown. Perhaps--” “Perhaps he knows I'm here,” said Mornie, with a bitter laugh. “I didn't say that,” said Rand, “and I don't think it. What I meant was, he might have met a party that was picnicking here to-day,--Sol. Saunders and wife, and Miss Euphemia--” Mornie flung his arm away from her with a passionate gesture. “THEY here!--picnicking HERE!--those people HERE!” “Yes,” said Rand, unconsciously a little ashamed. “They came here accidentally.” Mornie's quick passion had subsided: she had sunk again wearily and helplessly on a rock beside him. “I suppose,” she said, with a weak laugh--“I suppose, they talked of ME. I suppose they told you how, with their lies and fair promises, they tricked me out, and set me before an audience of brutes and laughing hyenas to make merry over. Did they tell you of the insults that I received?--how the sins of my parents were flung at me instead of bouquets? Did they tell you they could have spared me this, but they wanted the few extra dollars taken in at the door? No!” “They said nothing of the kind,” replied Rand surlily.