to fling them over the precipice with childish petulance. Then her mood changed: a wistful sadness stole over her face, her eyes grew soft and thoughtful, and gazing on the glittering spires and domes far away, she wondered what lay beyond the blue sky and its wondrous changing clouds—if green fields, and dark forests, and wide lakes were there, and another heaven above. Then she thought of the stars, and remembered a tradition she had heard, that they were the souls of all those great heroes who have died since the world began, and she asked herself, could she, a woman and a girl, never do any deed of love or devotion that might entitle her when she died to be admitted among that glorious band, and shine there for ever, side by side with Keefe Dillon? While she was thus dreaming some one stole softly among the shrubs behind her, and paused at a little distance. At the same moment Denis Brady sprang over a point of the cliff in another direction, and came up to her. The first intruder drew cautiously back on seeing Denis, and concealed himself where he could hear all that passed.
“Is that you, Denis?” said Coral; but her glance went beyond him, as if looking for some one else.
“Yes, it is me,” and he sat down on the grass beside her.
“I thought you and Keefe were going to Fish Point to-day?” said Coral.
“The skiff lost her rudder last night in the squall,” Denis answered, shortly.
“Where’s Keefe then?”
Denis turned from her: “Keefe, Keefe, always Keefe,” he said, bitterly.
“Always Keefe? What ails you, Denis?” and she stooped to look in his face. “What’s the matter with you?”
“What’s the matter?” he repeated, seizing her hands in his. “Oh, Coral, if you only knew how much I love you, you wouldn’t ask that.”
She started, but she did not take away her hands, and Denis spoke on:
“Coral, do you remember the first day your father brought you to our house? I think I see you at this moment in your blue frock and straw hat, your shining curls hanging on your neck, and your eyes that were brighter than the brightest star looking at me as shyly as a young fawn. From that hour I’ve loved you so well, that I’ve hardly loved anything else! And don’t you remember, Coral, when we lost our way in the bush looking for the cows, and all the swamp berries we gathered, and the bed I made for you of sassafras leaves, and how you dreamt you heard church bells ringing the way they used to do in that great city where you once lived; and when you woke it was only the cow bell, and she led us straight home? It all seems before me now, the bright moon glistening through the trees, and the fire-flies dancing about, and I think I hear the tinkle of the bell, and feel your little hand clinging to mine. I think they haven’t grown bigger since, Coral,” and he smiled at the contrast between them and his own strong rough ones. “And our bark canoe, Coral, and all the perch and pickerel we used to catch; and do you remember the day we went to Honey Island, and all the humming birds we saw there, and the first day I taught you to steer? You can steer and paddle now as well as I can. You liked me then, Coral, but now I believe you only care for Keefe.”
Surprise, doubt, and bewildered feeling had hitherto held Coral passive, like one in a dream, but Keefe’s name broke the spell, and unwrenching her hands from Denis, she stood up, and pointing to a rock which showed its head above the water at some distance, she said:
“Look there, Denis; it was there he saved me the day I upset the canoe, and ever since then I thought I had a right to love him, more than any one on earth.”
Denis felt his heart sink, but he got up and stood beside her.
“If you could only know how much I love you, Coral, I think you would not cast me off. Since ever I knew you, you have been dearer to me than the whole world. Look there, Coral,” and he showed her a plaited tress of her own hair wound round his arm; “do you recollect the day I cut off that ringlet? You thought I only did it to tease you, but I have worn it ever since.”
Coral’s eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, forgive me, Denis, it’s not my fault. I can’t help loving him. If you can love me so well, you’ll know what I feel for him, and you won’t blame me.”
“I don’t blame you, Coral, but it is hard to bear. Oh, you can’t tell—no one can tell.”
“Don’t fret, Denis,” said Coral, gently laying her hand on his arm. “I can’t bear to see you fret.”
Her tender pity almost unmanned Denis. He could have sat down and cried like a woman; but after a minute’s struggle he conquered his emotion. There was a brief silence, and then Denis said, timidly:
“I wouldn’t vex you for the world, Coral; but Keefe cannot love you as I do.”
“No,” she said, quickly. “I don’t think he does. I don’t think he ever can care for me as I do for him: but I must love him all the same.”
“And if he should love some one else—marry some one else,” said Denis, desperately, “and go where you would never see him again?”
“I could die, then,” she said, “and my spirit would be free to follow him.”
Denis felt too well how truly she spoke. If Keefe did not hold her immortal soul in thrall, as the Knight held that of Undine, at least her mortal life could not have survived his loss. But Keefe would love her yet—how could he help it—so beautiful as she was, so sweet, so loving; and would marry her, and they would both be happy: so thought Denis; as for him, he would go away where he might never see either of them again. It was only what he had known all along, yet still, as he had said to Coral, it was hard to bear: he must struggle with his agony alone, where no eye should see him, and without another word he rushed away, and plunged into the woods.
Coral looked after him, sorrow for the pain she had made him suffer filled her heart, and as a thousand proofs of his affection rushed on her memory, she sat down, and burst into a flood of tears. Suddenly a rustling among the branches at
