“The next day dragged slowly enough, but at last, with happy delight, I welcomed the hour of Lannie’s coming. We dined, I played and sang, Lannie told me of all the things that had transpired since I had left the forest. At eleven o’clock Lannie arose to go, all too soon for me. I begged him to stay; I laid my hand on his arm and looking straight into his strong, clear face, said: ‘Lannie, oh, Lannie, don’t you know that I love you? Can’t you see that I am dying to be taken into your arms and receive that strong yet tender embrace which I know awaits the woman you love?’ “Poor Lannie! He was dumfounded; he was white as death; not a muscle moved, not a word from those firm set lips; just a tender, pleading look from the eyes which I loved so well. “‘Lannie, speak to me,’ I cried. ‘Oh, dearest, give me some relief, say some kind word to me or I shall surely die.’ I threw myself into his arms. I pulled him down onto the divan and clung to him as though my life depended upon it. Oh, the emotion of the soul! I sometimes think that if the world knew what a woman must suffer at such times, it would not be so unkind. I was wild, and when Lannie freed his hands from my passionate clutch and tenderly lifted me from my knees to a position beside him, my joy knew no bounds. Oh, to think that he had once again taken me in his arms. Having gotten me to a position which seemed to please him, he put his dear face to mine and kissed me. The flight of time has never erased the memory of that thrill. Love, devotion, strength, happiness, all, all I say, went surging through me like an avalanche. ‘More, more, Lannie,’ I cried, and forgot all suffering as I, in my reclining position, could see the shadow of his great form as he bent over me again. I felt his burning lips on my brow, my cheek, my lips twitched in their feverish desire to be blessed with that lingering caress which is so soothing, yet so maddening. I think I must have fainted, for when I opened my eyes, Lannie was gone. “Next day I received a note from him saying good-bye, and that he would not call again. A tigress is not easily held at bay. My blood was aroused; my soul was fired. The lava was molten in the volcano and must find its way through the crest, no matter how many souls perished in the flood of fire. I was wild, methodically wild, and so determined was I in my purpose that I wrote him a note saying: “‘_Dear Lannie_: “‘This leaves me sick abed; please come to me. Oh, Lannie, do; I need you so much. “‘YOUR OWN AILENE.’