"A sister's love!" he repeated scornfully. "Offer a cup with a drop of
water in it, to a man perishing, dying with thirst. Yes, I'm going away, I
care not whither; all places are alike to him who has lost all interest in
life."

He threw her hands from him almost with violence, half turned away, then
suddenly catching her in his arms, held her close to his heart, kissing
passionately, forehead, cheek, and lips. "Oh, Elsie, Elsie, light of my
eyes, core of my heart, why did we ever meet to part like this? I don't
blame you. I have been a fool. Good-bye, darling." And releasing her, he
was gone ere she could recover breath to speak. It had all been so sudden
she had had no power, perhaps no will, to resist, so sore was the tender,
loving heart for him.

He was barely in time to hail the boat as it passed, and at the instant he
was about to step aboard, Mr. Dinsmore rode up, and springing from the
saddle, throwing the reins to his servant, cried out in astonishment,
"Harold! you are not leaving us? Come, come, what has happened to hurry
you away? Must you go?"

"Yes, I must," he answered with half-averted face. "Don't call me a
scoundrel for making such a return for your hospitality. I couldn't help
it. Good-bye. Try to forget that I've been here at all; for Rose's sake,
you know."

He sprang into the boat; it pushed off, and was presently lost to sight
among the trees shading the bayou on either hand.

Mr. Dinsmore stood for a moment as if spellbound; then turned and walked