sounded plainly this time and cut with an ache into her consciousness.

"I've been a little lonely, too--always, until just lately and now I
don't feel that way at all;" she looked at him thoughtfully with moonlit
eyes that were deep like sapphires. "I wonder why?"

Andrew Sevier's heart stopped dead still for a second and then began to
pound in his breast as if entrapped. For the moment his voice was utterly
useless and he prayed helplessly for a meed of self-control that might
aid him to gain a sane footing.

Then just at that moment the old genie of the forests, who gloats through
the seasons over myriads of wooings that are carried on in the fastnesses
of his green woods, sounded a long, low, guttural groan that rose to a
blood-curdling shriek, from the branches just above the head of the
moon-mad man and girl. For an instrument he used the throat of an enraged
old hoot-owl, perturbed by the intrusion of the noise of the distant hunt
and the low-voiced conversation on his wonted privacy.

And the experienced ancient succeeded in precipitating the crisis of the
situation with magical promptness, for Caroline sprang to her feet,
turned with a shudder and buried her head in Andrew's hunting coat
somewhere near the left string for cartridge loops. She clung to him in
abject terror.

"Sweetheart!" he exclaimed, giving her a little shake, "it's only a cross
old owl--don't be frightened," and he raised her cheek against his own
and drew her nearer. But Caroline trembled and clung and seemed unable to
face the situation. Andrew essayed further reassurance by turning his
head until his lips pressed a tentative kiss against the curve of her