matters upon which no woman is ever taken by surprise, whatever
she may pretend--drew quietly back. The time was not yet.

"Indeed, you must not, you must not think of me. You must go away.
You know that there are only pain and danger before us if you come
to see me any more."

"Indeed, I do not know anything of the kind. I am sure that my
father could never be unkind to any creature, and I am certain
that he was not to your mother. But what has he to do with us,
Winsome?"

Her name sounded so perilously sweet to her, said thus in Ralph's
low voice, that once again her eyes met his in that full, steady
gaze which tells heart secrets and brings either life-long joys or
unending regrets. Nor--as we look--can we tell which?

"I cannot speak to you now, Ralph," she said, "but I know that you
ought not to come to see me any more. There must be something
strange and wicked about me. I feel that there is a cloud over me,
Ralph, and I do not want you to come under it."

At the first mention of his name from the lips of his beloved,
Ralph drew very close to her, with that instinctive drawing which
he was now experiencing. It was that irresistible first love of a
man who has never wasted himself even on the harmless flirtations
which are said to be the embassies of love.

But Winsome moved away from him, walking down towards the mouth of
the linn, through the thickly wooded glen, and underneath the