A sigh so deep that it was like a sob broke from her.

She thrust forth her hand entreatingly.

"Why don't you go to him with your generosity?

You are so ready to believe ill of me! And I shall not

defend myself; but I will say these things to you, Mr.

Glenarm: I had no idea, no thought of seeing him at

the Armstrongs' that night. It was a surprise to me,

and to them, when he telegraphed he was coming. And

when I went into the tunnel there under the wall that

night, I had a purpose-a purpose-"

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"Yes?" she paused and I bent forward, earnestly

waiting for her words, knowing that here lay her great

offending.

"I was afraid,-I was afraid that Mr. Glenarm might

not come in time; that you might be dispossessed,-lose

the fight, and I came back with Mr. Pickering because

I thought some dreadful thing might happen here-to

you-"

She turned and ran from me with the speed of the

wind, the cloak fluttering out darkly about her. At the

door, under the light of the lamp, I was close upon her.

Her hand was on the vestibule latch.

"But how should I have known?" I cried. "And you

had taunted me with my imprisonment at Glenarm;

you had dared me to follow you, when you knew that

my grandfather was living and watching to see whether

I kept faith with him. If you can tell me,-if there

an answer to that-"

"I shall never tell you anything-more! You were so

eager to think ill of me-to accuse me!"

"It was because I love you; it was my jealousy of that

man, my boyhood enemy, that made me catch at any

doubt. You are so beautiful,-you are so much a part

of the peace, the charm of all this! I had hoped for

spring-for you and the spring together!"

"Oh, please-!"

Her flight had shaken the toque to an unwonted angle;

her breath came quick and hard as she tugged at

the latch eagerly. The light from overhead was full

upon us, but I could not go with hope and belief struggling

unsatisfied in my heart. I seized her hands and

sought to look into her eyes.

"But you challenged me,-to follow you! I want to

know why you did that!"

She drew away, struggling to free herself "Why was it, Marian?"

"Because I wanted-"

"Yes."

"I wanted you to come, Squire Glenarm!"

Thrice spring has wakened the sap in the Glenarm

wood since that night. Yesterday I tore March from

the calendar. April in Indiana! She is an impudent

tomboy who whistles at the window, points to the sunshine

and, when you go hopefully forth, summons the

clouds and pelts you with snow. The austere old woodland,

wise from long acquaintance, finds no joy in her.

The walnut and the hickory have a higher respect for

the stormier qualities of December. April in Indiana!

She was just there by the wall, where now the bluebird

pauses dismayed, and waits again the flash of her golden

sandals. She bent there at the lakeside the splash of

a raindrop ago and tentatively poked the thin, brittle

ice with the pink tips of her little fingers. April in the

heart! It brings back the sweet wonder and awe of those

days, three years ago, when Marian and I, waiting for

June to come, knew a joy that thrilled our hearts like

the tumult of the first robin's song. The marvel of it

all steals over me again as I hear the riot of melody in

meadow and wood, and catch through the window the

flash of eager wings.




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