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 Lida. "Stand there in your pride and protect him. You don't know him and it's a good thing you don't." Her anger rose again and she waved her hand as if to take in the whole sweep of the plantation. "You're all cursed," she shouted. "Your whole house is cursed and I'll live to see the day when ruin will stalk in your midst and you'll regret this day and doings. The whole brood of Lauristons is cursed."

Colonel Lauriston had caught his daughter in his arm protectingly now as they stood listening to the woman's ravings. When she ceased and turned away, Lida began to weep silently, depressed by the maledictions. Colonel Lauriston led her gently back into the house, the girl shuddering and asking between her sobs: "What does she mean, Daddy? What does she mean?"

Some of us reach maturity out of youth so gradually as to make the change unnoticeable; others bridge the gap in a night or a day while others are made men and women in an instant, by some great catastrophe or incident that sees us children one moment and adults the next. We face some great issue in life and the facing it makes over our natures and we become men and women. With the scene through which Lida Lauriston was just living she was leaving her youth and insouciance behind her. Life was gripping her in its whirl. She seemed to sense the change yet could not fathom it.

When her question remained unanswered, between her sobs as she clung to the arms that enfolded her, she asked again:

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 "Daddy, what did she mean? She-she-she was so horrid." Convulsive sobs were causing her body to shudder as the tears flowed again.

"Never mind, child," Colonel Lauriston comforted. "We'll be leaving for the North next week and be out of her way. She can't harm you anyway. She meant nothing. I just put her out of the crossroads house today and she's mad."

The scene was exceedingly painful to the three remaining on the veranda after the woman had departed followed by the servants. Colonel Lauriston's face was frightfully distorted with spasms of passion surging through him as well as the miserable, shuddering and hysterically weeping Lida as she half reclined in his arms.

The situation was also painful for Old John Marley; so intensely painful that when the ragings ceased with the maledictions and father turned toward the door with his daughter, Old John waddled toward the steps without attempt at adieus. He turned only long enough as he was about to descend to his buggy, to see Colonel Lauriston half leading, half supporting the almost swooning girl into the house at the same time saying:

"Never mind, Child—There now—Never mind—Dont cry any more. I'll take you right away and you'll soon forget the tauntings of the old woman. Don't you go and mind what Sally said."

"But Daddy, she str-str-struck you," Lida sobbed in another outburst. "And-and-and-said such horrid things."

Colonel Lauriston resorted to the pet name he had given

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 his daughter when but little more than an infant so deeply was he moved to console the girl.

"Never mind, Nubbins—never mind, Honey—Forget her—We'll get ready and go North as soon as possible." He knew this was the one thing his daughter had set her heart on and had been planning for as well as dreaming of for some time and this appealed to him as the suggestion that might most easily cause her to forget the present unfortunate affair. "We'll get away the first of the week and then you'll forget. The winds up there'll bring back the calm to your soul and the color to your cheeks."

As he spoke he stroked the silver blond head that lay on his shoulder till the convulsive sobs grew fewer and fewer and finally quiet gripped Lida again.

Colonel Lauriston and his family differed much from most of those most noted in South Carolina largely because of the long line of illustrious ancestors through which the name had run from Colonial times to the present. Because of the boast of lineage in which blood was mingled that of Huguenots from the Carterets, the Oglethorpes, Cordovas and the Middletons, the family was one of the most exclusive in the state and only after the War of the States when the whole social fabric of the South was destroyed did the blood of less illustrious persons enter into the strain. In keeping with that background, Colonel Lauriston had insisted that his family preserve the purity of diction that would mark it from the remainder of the natives, hence neither he nor any of his household had allowed themselves to be affected by the nasal drawl so char-

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 acteristic of the South. Not only did Colonel Lauriston scrupulously study himself to avoid this but he sought by education and the training of his children to prevent them from musically gliding over their words. To make sure that they remained untouched by the habit adopted all about them he had his children educated by correctly speaking tutors and instructors, surrounded them with persons who spoke only the purest language and sent them to schools in the North to secure their education.

It was in keeping with this custom of his that he had planned for his daughter, Lida, to have a year in the North at some finishing school before she should assume her place at the head of his domestic household, taking the place of his wife who had died when Lida was but a child.

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Market Square, in that Northern city to which Colonel Lauriston had brought his daughter for her year of polish and cultural finish was a busy mart on this delightful August morning when they arrived. The change from the stifling heat of the South to the entrancingly cooling blue New England sky and sunshine had already worked additional wonders in the cheeks and eyes of this flower of the Carolinas. The former were delicately pink tinted and the latter wider opened at the sights unfolding to her in this new world; sights new to her but so common to this staid old University city that they passed unnoted and ignored.

To Lida, however, whose horizon up to this time had been bound by vast fields of growing cotton, corn and wheat, broken here and there by forests of oak and tall pines this was a veritable fairy land from which she could see the wide blue bay with ships coming and going, tugs busily puffing away with their monstrous loads at their sides or trailing along behind, the tugs seeming like and reminding her of ants about her own home who tackled and carted away loads many times larger than their seemingly frail bodies and who, for their strength had always been a source of wonder and marvel to the girl. She was also reminded, as she watched the small tugs with their buffers of plaited rope at their bows steam up to some giant craft, of pictures of buffalos she had seen, with bushily lowered heads charging across the plains.

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 "Look, Daddy, aren't they wonderful? It doesn't seem as if they could pull those monstrous ships. How can they do it?" As she stood watching one of these little ants of the sea swing a ship of leviathan-like proportions from her slip, and point her down the bay, musical laughter of girlish delight rippled from her throat. Even Colonel Lauriston caught the spirit of his daughter and smiled happily as he enjoyed her chatter and comment, pleased that she was delighted and that he had been able to provide such joy for her. At her laughter also, even the matter-of-fact old New Englanders to whom such a sight was so common as to be beneath their notice paused, looked at the girl in her frank pleasure, then stopped also to enjoy the scene as if viewing it for the first time.

Colonel Lauriston stood for a few moments allowing Lida to take in the scenes that moved in panorama before her ere warning her that they had to finish their journey. As she stood gazing, entranced, down the harbor toward the sea, Colonel Lauriston, loathed to break the spell that held the girl, finally drew forth his watch and reminded her: "Come, Lida, Child, we must be going."

"Oh, Daddy, this is a wonderful place. I know I shall love it!" She exclaimed enthusiastically.

Without answering, Colonel Lauriston aided her into the taxicab that had been summoned when they alighted from the conveyance by which they had come from the train to the Square. He gave the address of their destination to the driver, then settled back, glad to see his daughter in such a happy mood. He had determined to place

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 her in one of the most fashionable finishing institutions in New England, Miss Gregory's School for Girls, noted all over the country for the careful training and the standing given it among select schools, largely because of its proximity to one of the larger universities of the East, in the shadow of whose greatness this girls' school basked.

Nestling among the elms for which the city was famous, on a prominence around which the wealth and aristocracy of the city was grouped, the main building of Miss Gregory's school sat fronting a well kept lawn, the elms and lawn combining to create the picture of some monastery of heavy stone masonry. This structure had once been the home of an eccentric millionaire who toiled to accumulate, then erected this mausoleum in which he planned to pass his declining days overlooking the city below and amusing himself counting the passing small craft on the Seekonk River which passed the rear of his wide garden.

When the mansion was built it was then the fashion of New England aristocracy to acquire immense acres of land, build imposing structures on some prominent and well chosen part of it, fence in the entire plot with a high stone wall and make a fairy garden out of a portion of the enclosed land in the rear of the house, while utilizing the other part for garden purposes. Such had been the history of the ground now occupied by Miss Gregory's school. The entire plot covered some twelve acres with this threestoried cupola-studded castle-like building, now ivy overrun standing as a bar to entrance if viewed from the front;

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 and like a monarch counting his fields if viewed from the distant rear. Running vines covered most of the stone wall, save at the corners where parapets like outposts were built.

In former years, as the cherry and pear trees ripe with tempting fruit stretched their tantalizing branches over the wall, every passing school boy on his way to swim cast longing eyes, but the height of the wall prevented any yielding to temptation. Also in the spring the garden seemed a veritable sanctuary for migratory birds who revel in the freedom of the place and its security as every breeze wafted to the street odors from blossoming flowers and trees.

Gradually as the city grew to and beyond the estate those who lived on the opposite sides of the streets bordering it were treated to the beauty within, their upper windows allowing clear view of the entire place.

The flowers and the gardens were still a feature as were also the birds in spring, but where there was otherwise silence and quiet now that Miss Gregory's school occupied the place, in the springtime and summer where bird songs once charmed and tempted the passerby to pause and listen, now there was the merry laughter of girls at fun. Where once the cherries and pears tempted passing boys now these were plucked from within by daring hoydenish girls, who once in a while in their daring peered over the wall at the passing city from their perches in the overhanging branches or sometimes dared discretion and the wrath of some instructor or governess to toss

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 fruit to passing youth in a spirit of flirtation and in their exuberance of youthful spirit. When once the fruit was thrown there would be a bashful half-smothered scream and the youth would look up just in time to see a face quickly disappear.

It was to this school on Brook Street, that Colonel Lauriston brought his daughter after having carefully studied the catalogues of more than half a hundred institutions which offered to do for her what his ambitions had planned. The carriage drew up to the walk leading to the heavily carved, brass-knockered door and the two stepped to the street. A bevy of eager curious-eyed faces watched the Colonel and his daughter pass their luggage to attendants and then walk to the door.

The school was just in the midst of fall opening and older students were watching for the return of friends and the incoming of new pupils. As father and daughter reached the door it swung wide to welcome them and they were soon seated in a large high vaulted reception room while the servant sought Miss Gregory. Arrangements for the year were soon completed and Lida enrolled as a pupil.

Having installed Lida in the care of Miss Gregory and satisfied himself that she would be well protected, Colonel Lauriston departed. Miss Gregory, a small, calm, motherly-faced woman whose hair was but just tinging grey, whose popularity with her girl proteges was due to the sympathetic heart she possessed and the tactful way she had of persuading the girls to conduct themselves as she

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 wished, formed a liking for Lida from the first meeting. The pupil from the South seemed so fresh and new to the great world into which she had come that her very shyness drew the sympathy of the educator and the two unconsciously became friends though friendship was unprofessed till later circumstances brought them together more intimately.

Lida was miserably lonesome at the departure of her father but as is the way with youth in good health these pangs were forgotten in the excitement of surroundings and new acquaintances except at night upon retiring and upon awakening. Then tears would come to her eyes despite her efforts at repression. At such times the world became utterly desolate till after she had been at the school a week Miss Gregory chanced to be passing her room and thinking the girl asleep touched her cheek with a caressing hand to find it moist.

Without a word she bent over the girl and kissed the tear spot tenderly. Impulsively Lida clasped her arms around the woman's neck and wept till her grief was spent while Miss Gregory soothed her nerves with cheering whispers. This experience cemented the friendship between the girl and woman more closely.

"Never mind, Child," Miss Gregory whispered. "Go to sleep. In the morning there'll be mail for you and you'll be happy."

As she spoke a great maltese cat, which had followed his mistress as was its custom, climbed to the girl's arms and began to purr softly, at the same time rubbing its

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 nose against Lida's hand in a friendly way.

"There, now!" whispered Miss Gregory. "You're surely one of the family. See! Mopsie has adopted you and he's very particular as to his friendships. There aren't five girls in the school with whom he's on such friendly terms as he is with you at this moment."

Involuntarily the girl's hand moved over the fur of the cat's back and smiles replaced the tears. The cat, as if to prove his entire friendliness turned then lay down contentedly on Lida's arm to sleep under the stroking of the girl's hand.

"Well, I never!" exclaimed Miss Gregory. "I'll soon be jealous of you, Miss Lauriston. Mopsie never sleeps in any arm but mine." With that she kissed the girl tenderly on the cheek again. Lida held the hand to her cheek as she replied:

"I love you. You're kind and your kiss was just like my mother's used to be."

"You poor child!" was all Miss Gregory could say, though her heart was full of tenderness. "What you need is loving—and you'll have it."

As she spoke a flood of full harvest moonlight filled the room, enveloping the three, it seemed a place of enchantment and in this enchantment Lida soon slumbered her lonesomeness forgotten while the elderly woman's thoughts retraced the years to the time when she was a girl at school, her mind as flooded with the memories as the room was of moonlight. As the girl slept she tiptoed gently from the room back to her own apartment where she sat

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 for many minutes gazing out of her window into the soft silvery-dewed night while memory conjured up romance after romance of other days.

Miss Gregory's predictions of letters for the following morning were true for when Lida awoke with the sun, refreshed as if out of a very pleasant dream, two letters on her dressing table attracted her. With a bound of gladsomeness and pleased exclamations she was out of her bed and kissing the envelopes in an abandonment of joy as she noted that both were from her father. Feverishly she opened both before reading either. One told of his arrival in New York and of his meeting with old friends whom he had not seen for years and the other mere personal, telling of his loneliness for her and his solicitation for her ease and health. It was truly a paternal letter, full of tenderness and cheer. Also was enclosed a check for spending money.

Miss Gregory was waiting in the doorway of her apartment as Lida started down the hall toward the stairway leading to the dining room when the summons for breakfast came. The former was wondering how the girl would act toward her after a night's rest; whether the experience of the evening had impressed the girl as it had her. Impulsively as Lida espied the matron she rushed to her and threw her arms about the woman in a girlish embrace. Involuntarily Miss Gregory gently placed the girl's head on her shoulder where it rested for a moment then the two started down the stairway together, Lida telling of her letters and the check.

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 "I suppose you'd like to make a shopping trip after breakfast," was her smiling comment.

"I'd love to," was the enthusiastic reply.

"Very well, we'll organize a party and I'll chaperone you."

In the dining room the plan was announced and the invitation extended to any of the girls who wished to accompany them. Breakfast was replete with chatter relative to the tour and when the meal ended there were several who expressed a wish to go. The group started and by a ten minute walk down the hill on which the University stood they were in the shopping district and soon absorbed in their tour.

With the party was a girl who had been three years at the school, Louise Comstock, whose room was opposite that of Lida's and who because of being neighbors with the girl had been her most intimate companion about the school. These two made but small purchases on the trip and soon wearied of walking from store to store. Both she and Lida wished to return to the school or to simply walk about the streets down town. The others in the party, however, demurred, and after some debate it was decided by Miss Gregory that Miss Comstock and Lida should return to their rooms, the older girl being in charge of the newer.

The groups then separated at the Arcade, the two retracing their steps while the remainder of the party continued their shopping. Lida and Miss Comstock had reached Market Square and were chattering in delightfully girlish

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 unmindfulness, greeting other passing and repassing groups of girls bent on similar errands. From time to time parties met and collected here and there obstructing the sidewalk and overflowing into the street busy in their world of youth and education, hailing and greeting each other, waving hands and smilingly exchanging introductions oblivious to all except their little worlds. Youth is all self center whether it is boy or girl youth and particularly college or higher school youth.

The scene was merry with a merriness that was infectious. Even staid business men were forced to smile patiently as youthful femininity elbowed them off the sidewalks and into the street in blissful thoughtlessness; others, accustomed to all this and similar scenes year after year paused in their peregrinations to recall days when they were equally full of vibrant life, health and optimism. The square was filled with happiness and smiles. Even the blue-coated police who seemed unusually numerous in the Square seemed happy.

Also the blue, undulating bay seemed to smile in the sunlight; to smile back to rows of hucksters whose teams flanked the bridge at the right and who hawked their wares to the passerby with varying tones and syllables that added to the crescendo of vocal utterances to be heard.

As the two girls started across the square for the climb up the hill to the school, from their left and around a corner from the direction of the railway station came the sound of band music and the tread of marching feet.

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Youth always dislikes to miss any entertainment, even such minor amusement as a small parade, being able to extract excitement from the dullest of marching bodies. Lida and her companion were no exception. At the sound of the music one clutched the arm of the other as the two paused.

"Oh, listen," cried the older girl. "A band!—Some parade. Oh, Goody! we'll see some fun. That's ripping! We'll have something to tell the other girls."

Lida's heart was full of expectancy also. There are few parades in the country and none with martial music, particularly in the South. For this reason, though she had witnessed some parades, on circus days when she had gone to Lexington, near her home for a visit, the music of this band was so lively and the occasion to unique in her life that she was almost in an hysterically excited state.

The two girls stood arm in arm, listening in eagerness while the noise of the parade approached but was as yet unseen, around a further corner of the square. As they stood, a band behind a large American flag, came into view. Accompanying this flag was another emblem of the organization of street car men. A banner announced that they were on strike and were parading to their hall for a meeting.

On they came, into the square till the entire body, some five hundred of them were in view. As the head of the procession reached the square proper they were met by a

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 squad of police who attempted to turn them back. The procession halted then started again. As it did so the police were seen to rush them. This precipitated a riot and soon the square was a mass of yelling, pushing, surging, fighting humanity.

Women and girls who had been caught in the mass, by the suddenness of the shift from peace to war were struggling, screaming, fainting and adding to the hubbub. The sickening dull blows of club against cracking skulls, the thud of fists against faces and bodies increased the melee and confusion. Where a few moments before there was law and order, peace and harmony, now the beast in man was raging and the law of the brute fought for mastery. In the midst of this riot suddenly revolvers began to bark their shots. Panic seized the weaker hearted of those in the throng.

At the beginning Lida and her companion failed to comprehend the seriousness of their predicament and stood so long gazing at the spectacle that before they fully sensed their danger they had been swept from the sidewalk and into the midst of the whirling, swirling, fighting mass. Indignation at their predicament and their inability to free themselves as well as the spirit of battle that now seemed to grip all, caused them to forget the refining influences that had been theirs and they battled back with those about them till they were so tightly hemmed in by the jam that their efforts were futile. They were fast becoming as hysterical as those about them, losing their saner senses, appreciation of their dangers overwhelming them.

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 As they struggled a cobblestone swirled over Lida's shoulder and crashed against the skull of a citizen who immediately lost consciousness and slumped, though the compactness of the crowd about him prevented his body for a moment or so from falling to the paving where it was later trampled into an unrecognizable mass.

Both girls now began screaming as the horror of their predicament grew. In the midst of the confusion, just as Lida was losing control of her senses and becoming entirely mad she was conscious of a strong voice over her shoulder.

"I'll protect you, ladies," it said. "Don't get nervous. Don't get nervous. Steady now! Steady!"

There was something so commanding about the voice; something so vibrant, confident and reassuring that Lida's courage which had been forsaking her began to return. She tried to see who was behind her but failed. The soothing positiveness of the assertions she heard was restoring to her a calmness that a few moments before she was ready to believe was impossible. Her companion, however, was still screaming and battling.

Before she could collect her senses further the voice commanded, still in that vibrant calm assured tone:

"Turn about now. Turn till you face me."

The voice seemed now to be having the same effect on Miss Comstock as it had on Lida for she ceased to scream. Both girls, with every sway and twist of the crowd wrenched their bodies till they were turned in the direction they had been commanded to take. With each give and surge of the crowd they gained more freedom of move-

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 ment. When turned completely about they clung to each other desperately and looked for the face of their rescuer. His back was now turned to them but he talked to them over his shoulder.

"Now catch my coat and cling for life. Don't let go for anything, and keep behind me," he shouted.

The girls battled till they were pressed closely against his back; so closely that they breathed with difficulty. He waited till he felt the clutch at his coat and the clinging arm about his waist. Tall of shoulders and ruggedly set up he was almost complete protection for the girls on their front. As they clung frantically to him he started to make a path through the fighting mass. Fists were flying and blows were aimed in promiscuous as well as disinterestedly generous profusion at the head of the young man who acted as their protector.

Lida was self-possessed enough by now, thanks to the healthy outdoor life to which she had been bred that her nervousness was leaving her. They moved toward the outer edge of the crowd with slow, disputed steps. Lida looked up at her protector and marvelled at the coolness with which he fought for them; how he parried blows aimed for him and through it all waded toward the rim of the mass and safety.

Twice his head was tilted back by the blows which were rained on him. Once Lida felt his progress halted and his body tremble. She thought he was about to sink and inwardly uttered a prayer for strength for him. His dark almost curly hair, which fell about his face was shaken

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 back from his brow again and again by blows. Being taller than most of those about him he was a target for almost every other fighting man. Police clubs swung at him at the sa ne time that fist blows came his way. He parried them all with the deftness of a ring master but never faltered in his advance toward the safety zone.

Once a giant fist landed a bone-cracking blow against his chin and his head sank to his breast for an instant but was raised again. The blow bruised the flesh and blood flowed freely in a slow stream from the open wound. He shook his head and Lida felt a drop of the warm fluid on her cheek. It was a disagreeable sensation but she dare not release her grip to remove it and in an instant forgot it.

At that moment she was conscious of more freedom of movement and realized that they were almost free. A few steps more and what had seemed hours but had really been but a few minutes ended; they were approaching the wall of a tall building. Willing hands, at the outer edge of the mass reached for them and pulled them free. As she became aware of this a heavy stone came hurtling through the air from the midst of the mass and straight for the man rescuing them. She shrank herself and tried to shout a warning but could utter no syllable. She heard the crash of the stone for she had closed her eyes from the sight, and felt the body of the man weaken. She pressed him more tightly about the waist as if to hold him in support. He faltered an instant. The pressure of her arm seemed to revive him. He struggled on. A moment more and they were safe. The girls still clung to him, however.

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 Without a word he rushed them along the side of the building to which they had come and to a drug store on a further corner, through the rear entrance of that and again into the street but beyond the riot zone. As they emerged from the store a taxicab was passing. The driver was seeking safety, fearing the mob would soon turn that way. Without preliminaries the young man halted the cab, opened the door, hurried the girls into it, shouting:

"East side!—East Side! Quick!"

The driver pulled his levers and drove rapidly up the hill past the University and toward the vicinity of Miss Gregory's school. The girls were still in such a frantic state of hysteria, though subdued, that when the cab halted they feared another assault. Asked where they wished to be driven, Lida who was the more composed of the two decided they would walk, having seen the school cupola a few streets away. Their rescuer started to accompany them but they demurred. Miss Comstock, who had been weeping silently regained self control as they walked away. The driver realizing that the young man was in need of medical attention turned on the power and hurried to find a physician.

The simple life of the Southern country girl had given her a constitution to which "nerves" were unknown. Due to this she was the more composed of the two girls, the less shaken as they started down the street to the school entrance. Miss Comstock seemed to sense this strength and clung shiveringly to Lida's arm. The latter was the first to speak. "Wasn't it awful?" she commented, half mus-

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 ingly. Her companion shuddered and clung to the arm she had grasped.

"A street fight." Lida continued, her mind retracing the events. "I wonder what it was all about?—I surely thought we'd be killed—and we would have had it not been for him—Oh!" she cried, standing still at the new thought that intruded.

"Oh! we didn't get his name.—How rude!—and he was hurt too." Then turning to Miss Comstock. "Did you see how his head was bleeding. Poor man. He must be frightfully hurt."

She suddenly pictured again the flying stone as it crashed against their rescuer's head. Her heart filled with stifling pain. She too began to weep as she recalled their struggle to reach safety and the risk this unknown man had run to save them, hysterical reaction forcing the tears and sobs.

"I shall love him all my life—love him and no other man." She vowed amid her tears.

Miss Comstock, who was now regaining her composure proved consoling as she offered: "He certainly was brave to risk his life for us in that mob.—Did you see his face?—Such deep brown eyes—such a smile—and such courage!—I wonder who he is! His face seemed familiar."

"Poor man! We were a pair of selfish sillies not to think of getting his name so we could thank him. Thanks would be such small pay, though, for what he did for us. It's perhaps better that we don't thank him."

"I wonder if he was badly hurt?" Miss Comstock asked sorrowfully.

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 "Badly hurt. Poor—poor man! He's k-k-killed" Lida sobbed sympathetically as she thought of and analyzed the struggle, recalling the blows she knew struck his head and shoulders. "I hate mobs!" she exclaimed vehemently. "Mobs are such brutal things. Why do men fight and kill anyway?"

Miss Comstock looked at her companion. "Why, I thought you people in the South were used to mobs" she said.

"Oh, they don't count. Only niggers get hurt in them. Besides my folks don't indulge in those things. Southern mobs are composed of the poor, the rough and the people new to the country. The better class whites are above that sort of thing. I hate those mobs too, she added. A mob's a mob and savage at the heart whether South or North, in America or Timbuctoo."

The girls had now reached the school and were soon detailing the story of their experiences, to the teachers and girls who gathered about them, having noted the disarray of their clothing. Lida's hat had been entirely lost and her hair tumbled about her face, her waist and skirt almost in ribbons and Miss Comstock in almost the same condition.

They were still in the midst of their recital which had been freely interspersed with spasms of weeping as they recalled frightful portions of their experiences. They talked alternately, at the same time and sometimes with a half dozen chattering at once but all being understood

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 when Miss Gregory and the others who had made the trip burst in on them.

"Oh, my girls!" she exploded as she gathered them both weepingly in her arms, "I'm so relieved—so relieved." With this she kissed them both in her excess of emotion as she held them. "I'm so glad you reached home. I was afraid you had been caught in that mob down street and either hurt or killed. We just missed being caught in it ourselves and saw ambulances rushing wounded to hospitals and stations. Wasn't it awful?—Such fighting I never saw. There was no regard for women and children or anything else. I'm so glad you escaped and were not in it."

"Oh, but they were," one of the girls answered. "They had the thrillingest experience imaginable. Even to being rescued by a handsome hero. I envy them." At this everybody burst into laughter thus banishing another approaching storm of weeping. "They were just telling us about it when you returned." The speaker continued.

"What?" exclaimed Miss Gregory, as she held each girl off at arm's length and inspected them, fear in her heart again. "Were you hurt? Were you hurt?" she asked frantically anxious. "Oh, why did I let you leave us!—Why did I?—Think what might have happened!"

"Oh, but we're all right now," Lida volunteered. "—A little shaken but that's all."

At this Miss Gregory became authoritative again. "Get right to your rooms, Girls" she commanded to those who had been grouped about Lida and Miss Comstock. "Right

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 to your rooms and prepare for dinner." As she spoke she ushered the two girls into her study to question them concerning their experiences. Both young women assured her they were whole of bones and had now recovered from their nervousness. As she heard this Miss Gregory exclaimed:

"I shall never allow two of my girls to travel alone again."

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Truman Bennet was so weakened from loss of blood and dizziness due to the last blow he had received before he rushed the girls to safety that he feared he would faint while they were in the cab with him. It was only exercise of the giant will within him that he held control of himself till the girls had left him. Had he not been afraid of distressing them with his wounds he would not have allowed them to quit the carriage till safely at their homes. As it was when they turned from him, as he watched them down the street, he smiled weakly for an instant then the world blackened and his eyes became sightless while his body slumped to the street, his knees crumpling under him.

He knew not how long he had remained unconscious. It seemed eternities, suddenly he opened his eyes again and reached his hands to his head as if to ease the pain just above his ear. He felt the soft blood-matted sticky wound and remembered again. He struggled to his feet but slumped again, this time barely being conscious of the face of the cab driver looking back at him.

When he regained consciousness again he was on the operating table in the relief station to which he had been rushed by the cab driver and was being bandaged as a kindly doctor who had heard the cab driver's story was saying:

"Young man, you came very near to being a dead hero at this time. You'd better thank your lucky stars you have been getting your football training at the University.

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 Almost any other man would have been dead. I suppose the picture of that pretty face you rescued kept you up.—Now the romance begins."

Truman continued to follow the movements of the physician but only half consciously, not yet realizing that it was Dr. Bayard Tansey, Physical Director of the University who was speaking.

Dr. Tansey continued to talk smilingly. "You, I'm talking to. Look at me with those brown eyes. I suppose you only see the face of a pretty girl now. All men are like that. Go daffy for a pretty face then wake up after they married.—You'll do the same as the rest, if I get you well. Guess I'll let you die.—No, on second thought, if you die you won't know what I know about women and every man ought to know at least as much.—Besides they need you on the football squad yet awhile." He was just about to be puzzled at the still silent gazing eyes and to wonder if there was not a blood clot on the brain which paralyzed his patient's senses when a film which seemed to envelop Truman's head faded away and intelligence came.

Dr. Tansey noted the change. "Ah, I thought I'd bring you to after awhile. You had a narrow squawk, boy. Here taste this." He held a medicine dropper to the patient's lips. The pungent fluid cleared away all the mental clouds and Truman tried to rise.

"Steady, now. Not so fast." Dr. Tansey stepped to the table and gently pressed Bennet back to his reclining posi-

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 tion as he spoke. "You mustn't do that," he continued. "You'll spoil all my plans for you."

Bennet again essayed to rise, the effect of the drops administered to him now having fully cleared his brain. With the attempt, however, he felt a stinging pain in his head, lifted his hand to ease it and slowly pulled it away as he touched the huge bandages in which his head was swathed.

"What's the matter, Doctor?" he asked.

"Nothing, only I've just saved St. Peter the disagreeable task of kicking a perfectly good athlete out of Heaven and preserved real promising football material from a burning."

"Yes, I know all that rot but what am I doing here? and where's the girl—where's the mob—who hit me with that brick?"

"Ah!" exclaimed the doctor. "I know you're better now. You're a poor hero, even if you did do a good job in rescuing two pretty girls out of a pretty mess."

"Two girls!—Two girls!—Why, I only saw one." Bennet answered his brain now flashing back pictures of the mob and the struggle.

"All the same—two or one—what does it matter?" the doctor replied shaking his head in a whimsical manner. "You're a lost child now Bennet. You saw beauty in distress, looked into her soulful eyes—and yielded to Circe's power—plunged into a fight that was none of your affair,—got your head cracked—and you'll be loony

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 for the remainder of your life. All for a girl—a skirt—a woman with large blue dreamy eyes.—

"Oh, don't deny it," he continued as Bennet raised a hand to protest and defend the girl, though still weak from the battle, the loss of blood and the operation. "—I got it all from your ravings while under the anaesthetic and I was operating, and from your cabby. Boy! your constitution's iron, I guess. You raved like a mad one over the girl."

"By jove, Doctor Tansey, she was worth all the risk. You ought have seen her.—A Hebe—a Juno—a Minerva—A—a—a—goddess. That's it Doctor, a goddess." Bennet's eyes sparkled as he pictured the girl in his mind.

Dr. Tansey, the idol of the football team, in fact of all the athletes at the University, burst into loud laughter at this. Beneath his exterior of sarcasm and raillery all those who came in contact with him at the emergency hospital knew he was a man of sympathy for youth, particularly youth suffering from injury. He adopted this attitude toward those young men who came to him from the football, baseball, track field or the gymnasium on the hill with their injuries in order to test their sincerity, their vitality and their spunk.

At the outburst of Bennet's he was pleased for he knew that the vitality of this young swarthy giant of manhood had not been sapped to danger point and that recovery would be rapid. Even his chin hidden by an imperial cut of hirsute adornment seemed to reflect the joy he felt at

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 the discovery that Bennet was not in danger any longer. He had formed a special liking for this black-haired foreign looking American and there was more than ordinary joy in his laughter when he exploded after Bennet finished speaking of the girl. He raised his hands above his head in token of surrender, as he exclaimed:

"Gone, gone, gone! Completely gone! Good-bye Bennet. That blow on the head set you off completely. It knocked the man out of you and turned you into a fool lover. I suppose you'll be off your game for the remainder of the season and you'll be mooning up and down the street in front of Miss Gregory's school from now—"

Bennet almost set up from the chair on which he was still reclining at the words.

"That's where she's from? That's where she's from?" he asked. Dr. Tansey gave no answer. "I know it! I know it!" "—Doctor take me to a ward—Please take me to a ward.—How long shall I be here?—That's it. That's it!"

Dr. Tansey was replacing his scalpels in their case after carefully cleansing them. He was so deliberate in his movements as to be almost tantalizing. As he placed the last one in its place and folded the 'case he looked at Bennet and there was approval in his eyes. The blood was flushing the latter's face again. Dr. Tansey walked over to the chair, took a wrist in his hand and counted the pulse.

"You'llneverbe" he was tormentingly deliberate, "cured." He looked at Bennet to see the effect of the words and when he saw the disappointed look in

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 the boy's eyes, he added "—till—you're married to her." With that he burst into laughter again and pressed the hand he held in warm friendship.

Bennet gave the hand a returning grip then a twinkle came into his eyes and he said "Bring her on and I'll marry her now."

"Now I know you're hopelessly foolish," Dr. Tansey replied. "No man in his senses would be willing to marry a girl when he had no prospect ahead of him and at the start of his senior year in college. And if I thought you meant any such thing as that I'd go get that brick that laid you out and present it to you again."

Bennet was no longer listening to the doctor, however, His mind was searching out the girl. Exhaustion was creeping over him also, and he began drifting off to sleep as the physician and an attendant whom he had now summoned trundled the wounded youth off to his ward. As Bennet was being lifted into his bed Dr. Tansey, immaculate in his suit of white duck eased the bandages about the wounded man's head, whose eyes were becoming more and more drowsy as he half muttered: "Get me well, quickly, Doctor. She's a queen."

It was several weeks before Bennet was sufficiently recovered to leave the hospital and return to college and several weeks longer before he was able to take part in the football contests scheduled for that fall. He was greatly missed by the entire team. The strike had long since been settled and the clash of police and workmen almost forgotten. So rapidly do human events follow one another.

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 Those incidents in our lives that shock us today are gone and forgotten tomorrow. All adding to the sum of life and experience; all making history as we move toward eternity.

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There was one place, however, where the scenes of that day were never forgotten and among the girls of Miss Gregory's school the incidents were told and retold with romantic variations and speculations. To Lida mention of the day's events were becoming seemingly distasteful for she would never speak of them; but away from her studies and in her room, alone, the pictures of that scene ever recurred and with the picture came the image of her hero of the occasion.

She wondered what had become of him; whether he had died of his wounds, whether he had recovered; who he was and why she had never met him again to thank him in person. Often she pictured to herself scenes in which they met and she had thanked him for his bravery. At such times a crimson flush tinted her cheeks and suffused her neck clear to the shoulders as she shyly thought of actions her heart told her she might be led to perform in her gratitude. Constant picturing of these scenes had created in her a shy distrust of herself and a constant conflicting struggle for and against such a meeting. If they ever did meet again she hoped it would be by accident and she would be taken unawares for otherwise she felt she would run from the meeting.

As thoughts of his condition came to her she would be filled with pity at the memory of his wounds. This pity more and more often awakened tender thoughts and she wished she might have been near to nurse him, to care for

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 his wounds and to show by nursing how she appreciated his unselfish efforts to rescue them.

When pity awakens tender thoughts love is just over the fence within easy call. So when these moments of pitying came Bennet loomed to her as an unknown hero and she treasured the thoughts in her heart as a girlish romance too sacred to be disclosed. Hence it was that all reference to the events of that day became outwardly distasteful to her; so seemingly distasteful that her schoolmates ceased to attempt to discuss them with her.

To all the girls of the school the events of that day were sources of wonderful romances. Each treasured the stories told in her heart and pictured herself enviously as the heroine of the occasion. While Lida refused to allow herself to be drawn out and to expose the inward dreams of her heart for general discussion, not so Louise Comstock. Though she confessed she was too excited and distracted to see who it was who rescued them she knew he was big and strong and dark and foreign looking and that was enough for her. She was frank in her expressions of love for him and delighted in picturing meetings with this unknown hero. Also she felt a growing conviction that she knew him.

Each night at the hour for retirement a group of girls would gather in one of their rooms, and in the darkness or under the moonlight which they allowed to shimmer through their curtained windows they would build romance upon romance with themselves as heroines and the unknown rescuer as hero.

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 "When I marry him," Louise Comstock announced one night as the girls were gathered in her room and were romancing, "I'll not let one of you girls come to the wedding. I'd be afraid of you all. I'd be jealous."

"Why, Louise!" several exclaimed at once.

"Yes, I'm too ravenously in love with him to let you girls have a look at him."

That was as much as she had opportunity to announce for all the girls pounced on her with sofa pillows, sheets, cushions and whatever soft thing they could battle with and soon Louise was being smothered beneath an avalanche of feathers while all the girls were screaming and laughing with the fun. So furious was the battle that Miss Gregory was called from her suite by the noise to subdue them.

Lida, who had been soundly sleeping, wandering amid pleasant dreams was awakened by the noise and commotion. As she roused the moon from a bright October sky flooded the room with its silver sheen that was almost a dreamlike day. The great pale disk, round and bright as only a harvest moon can be, was almost over head, causing the still clinging autumn leaves of the elms whose branches spread from sidewalk to sidewalk to make a dark fairy bower beneath them on the street. Through these falling leaves, now thinning with the accumulations of frost there danced and sparkled on the street little bright silver patches between the dark.

When the girls had been quieted Lida tried again to close her eyes and sleep but the brightness of the moon, the

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 clearness of the sky showing through the treetops, and the quietness of the street all seemed to cast a dream spell over her that she could not overcome. Casting a robe about her and gathering some cushions about her feet she drew a chair and sat by the window looking out on the dew-sprinkled lawn and the street along which it ran till her gaze trailed itself out into the distant sky where only a few stars twinkled; and out where her thoughts could roam at will.

There was an entrancing stillness about the night with all the earth in slumber, the whole scene spreading out like some fairy garden over which some witching spell had been cast. As she sat, there came over her a loneliness, a dreaminess, that caused her to sigh aloud. Her heart seemed especially filled with tenderness and pity tonight as she sat, her elbows on the sill, her hands cupped and her chin resting in them, a lone teardrop hanging like pearls at the corner of each eye. A breeze, gentle and almost warm rustled the light silken sleeves of her gown and the lacy trimmings at her throat. Almost unconsciously her voice gave sound to the thoughts running through her mind.

"I wonder," she sighed, "if we'll ever meet?—I'd just like to tell him how much I thank him—He's the hero of my heart—and always will be.—Oh, I wonder if he's dead—Poor man." At this thought she bowed her head and wept silently. As she bowed her head in tears a figure at the base of the great elm near her window stirred as if to move. It was not the intention of the figure to play

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 eavesdropper on a girl. As the figure moved the girl raised her head again. The figure hid behind the trunk of the tree again. To move would have been cruel to the girl as well as to have disclosed himself in a despicable act. One impulse prompted him to bolt and run while the delicate sense of honor and sympathy also cautioned him that to move would have been to disclose to the girl that she had been overheard and to have caused her shame. He decided to remain hidden and to preserve the secret of her anguish.

"I am so lonely." Lida sighed. "So lonely without love. Without his love. I love him. I do love him. I wonder if he lives. I'd give the world to know if he ever thinks of me—if he's dead. He can't be dead though, for some sense would have told me."

It is the first impulse of human beings when they have been religiously taught, when in the midst of great emotions; in the face of great difficulties and in the face of great crises in their lives, if never before, to pray. The first prompting of Lida's heart in her mood was to pray and she lifted her face to the sky as she uttered the words:

"Oh God, Thou knowest my heart; Thou hast given me love; give me the one I love."

The first impulse of Truman Bennet, for it was he who stood beneath her window, was to disclose himself. He realized, however, that he was in the presence of too deep a sentiment, too sincere an emotion and too reverent an occasion to spoil it all by disclosing himself, however much his heart leaped with gladness at the discovery that the

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 feelings that prompted him were also so deeply moving the girl on whom his heart had set itself. He longed to make himself known yet felt the impropriety of intrusion on such a sacred hour in the girl's life and on such a sacred event. He resolved to treasure this maiden's secret, however, and never to take advantage of the knowledge he had gained that he was loved by her.

"I shall prove ever worthy of that love, though I never attain it, so help me God" he solemnly swore.

As if her prayer was answered there stole over Lida a calmness and serenity that was like the night itself. Her soul seemed Satisfied and after drinking in the blissfulness of the night scene a few moments longer she sighed audibly then slowly closed the shutters and retired, to peaceful slumber.

Truman Bennet when he was able to leave the hospital had lived, dreamed and hoped for nothing so much as to meet the girl he had rescued and become acquainted with her. Having learned from Doctor Tansey's conversation that she was a pupil at Miss Gregory's school he had ended his evenings by strolling by the great school and its high stone walls hoping for another glimpse of the face that haunted him, or for a chance meeting that would make them acquaintances. It was on one such errand as this that brought him alone and lonesome by the school this night when the girls were at their pranks and Lida had awakened. As the figure stirred and the shutters opened to the night he was so self-conscious of his errand that he thought it must be known to someone in the school

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 and that this person had opened the window to tell him to move along and mind his own business; also not to be lurking about the school like a thief in the night. This was the thought that prompted him to step behind the trunk of the friendly elm and hide himself from view. Having hidden himself when he discovered the girl in her musings he realized what a shameful though unintentional predicament it was in which he was placed and the embarrassment of the girl should he disclose himself, so when the panic of his soul subsided he reasoned that it were better to remain hidden than to be the cause of any discomfiture to the girl.

As he realized the state of the girl's heart toward him the last vestige of youth in him vanished and in its stead came manhood. So do events shape and reshape our beings; so do we rise or fall to meet circumstances. Those who have the character measure up to events that confront them, and those who lack that character to measure up, shrivel and dwindle. It is by such as this that we succeed or fail.

Truman Bennet walked on air as he returned to his room that night. Yet the seriousness of realizing that he had the heart of a girl in his keeping even though unpledged and undisclosed sobered his happiness and caused him to sit by his window long hours before he retired for sleep. He debated with himself what his course under the circumstances should be.

"Shall I?" he asked himself, "go to this girl whom I love and confess my love then ask for hers, or shall I keep

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 silent? What would I have done had I met her. What a fool I was to go near that school. What a fool I am any way! How can I love or let myself love when I have my way to make. To confess that I was within hearing of her voice would be to lose me whatever chance I might have. She would consider me a cad and rightly. No, I could never do that. She would have nothing to do with me then. No, the only thing I can do is to trust to chance. I love her, though. Love her with all the being in me.

"I wonder if she would understand? I doubt it. She seems a timid thing; and yet no, she is not timid. What shall I do? I don't know. Yet they say, 'faint heart ne'er won fair lady.'—I guess I'll let circumstances guide me. No, that's shirking. Ah, I have it. I shall pass her window again each night and some night when she's awake I'll begin to talk as if to myself and tell her who I am and that I love her. Perhaps she'll understand then and if she really meant what she said tonight I'll know then I can act. If she really loves me, boy, oh boy, the world is mine!"

That weighty question settled to the satisfaction of youth Bennet was soon abed and asleep. He awoke several hours later refreshed and with a song in his heart. Youth always sings in the morning hours. It seems appropriate. Youth is morning and morning the youth of the day—so youth, song and morning go hand in hand. With Bennet's first waking hour came the picture of the scene witnessed the evening previous. The memory filled him with happy dreams again and as he pictured the form at

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 the window, leaning out into the dewy night while the soft wind was causing Lida's long loosely combed hair to wave back and forth about her neck and throat the vow he had overheard so filled him with joy that his eyes filled with tears of pain. He looked from the window of his room into which the sun was shining but saw only the silver moonlight of the night before and the image at the window.

"Oh, God, how I love her!" He exclaimed fervently while tears filled his eyes. "What a wonder girl." His thoughts became seriously sobered again as he added, "God help me to prove a man to her. May I never fail her!"

Truman Bennet's injuries had been so serious that his services were practically lost to the team for the season and by the time he was in condition to play the season was over. His mental state, also was such as to cause Dr. Tansey to deny permission for him to enter into any of the contests. With nothing to do but study and dream of Lida, Bennet found himself each night strolling by the window from which the girl's confession had been made, hoping for another glimpse of her yet fearing to be seen lest he be recognized.

There was no chance for a meeting since he knew none of the girls at Miss Gregory's school and had no chance for an introduction. His soul was agonized alternately with despair and hope. Fortune smiled on Bennet, however, most unexpectedly.

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Both schools had now settled down to the routine of book life for the winter when announcement at the college and at Miss Gregory's school told of the reception to the President of the college, an annual affair to which the girls of the school were usually invited.

This first social function of the year for the college was usually a bore to most of the professors and the students alike. While informal, there were so many strangers among the Freshmen and guests, there was little chance for making acquaintances. Those who attended, in the large reception room of the common dining hall, appropriately draped for the event, sought little groups here and there to renew acquaintance or to be introduced to newer corners.

Except for the professors and teachers who came from year to year and the older of the students the entire affair was dull. Some of the younger classmen tried to dance after being presented to partners, others sat off in corners talking light conversational chatter. Bennet was just being bored with the affair and preparing to greet the President then leave when he thought, "Ah, she might come. She's new and some of the girls may bring her. Perhaps I'd better wait."

He was about to pass into an adjoining room to seek a corner from which he could watch the door when he was halted by a call from Dean Ira Sandager.

"Here, just a moment, Bennet," he beckoned. Bennet turned to the speaker who stood in a small group and

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 walked over to Dean Sandager. The latter taking the young man by the arm drew him into the group beside him, smiling. "You've met my friends?" Dean Sandager asked bowing toward those standing with him. Bennet smiled as a young man and two young women greeted him with outstretched hand, at the same time exclaiming, "hello, Bennet" the girls merely nodded.

"Oh, yes, we've met," Bennet laughingly shook hands.

One of the young women of the group stood partially facing another group with whom she was speaking. She heard the voice of the newcomer and instinctively turned.

As she did so her eyes met those of Bennet. Both were unguarded in their meeting. A vivid crimson colored Lida Lauriston's face for an instant then she blanched as her eyes drooped. Bennet almost gasped in his surprise, the smile waning on his face. There was an awkward stillness for a moment. One of the young ladies in the group, however, turned to Bennet, with:

"Miss Lauriston, I don't believe you've met Mr. Bennet. Miss Lauriston, Mr. Bennet."

Bennet's head was in a whirl. Embarrassment overcame him. He stammered and struggled to master himself. He wanted to extend his hand but resisted. Lida was flustered herself at the surprise of the meeting so suddenly with the man over whom she had often dreamed. The situation was fast becoming awkward when the young woman who spoke first added:

"Miss Lauriston is new here. I'm sure you've never met.—She's here at Miss Gregory's for the first year."

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 Bennet inwardly thanked the speaker for the words. It gave him opportunity to recover somewhat. Lida was still silent.

"He's one of our heroes, Miss Lauriston," Dean Sandager offered. "One of our athletes."

"Oh!" was all she could gasp before Dean Sandager continued. "He's off the team this year, because of accident. Got mixed up in that mob of strikers and got hurt.—You remember seeing the stories in the papers. They say he rescued some girls, too.—Never got the straight of it.—Bennet never would talk of it and the papers never identified him or the girls."

He was resting his hand fondly on Bennet's shoulder as he spoke. The latter was embarrassed to perspiration. Lida was too overcome to say anything of what she might and as conversation lagged, Dean Sandager turned to Bennet, with, "Get the ladies some refreshments, Bennet."

Glad of an excuse Bennet turned and was off to do the errand after learning the desires of those in the group. Lida looked after the retreating form of Bennet as he passed behind a grouping of fernery and palms into the refreshment room. On returning all sought seats about the room. Neither Lida nor Bennet was aware of the manner in which they became paired as they thought of the event afterward, but when they started for the side of the room they found themselves together.

Bennet's heart was pounding a tattoo against his coat. He looked helplessly at those ahead of him. Lida too was still embarrassed. There were not seats enough for them

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 all together, Lida and Bennet being in the rear were left without.

"You'll have to find seats, Bennet," said Dean Sandager waving a hand. "—Not room here."

"All right, Sir," he answered; then turned toward one of the adjoining rooms. As they started to enter, Lida still embarrassed and feeling that her emotions would be disclosed under the light, exclaimed:

"Oh, let's don't sit here. Let's walk. I can eat my salad walking. I'll feel better.—Let's don't eat.—I don't want to eat."

Bennet was of the same mind and taking the plate she offered placed them on a table while they continued through the rooms to one unoccupied. Neither of them spoke, each glad to be with the other yet afraid to trust to their feelings. Bennet remembering the moonlight scene hesitated, not wishing to remind the girl of the circumstances under which they had met, if she had forgotten and she, remaining silent lest she say too much. She felt, however, that she must thank him. She realized that it was for her to express thanks for the rescue, if the subject was to be mentioned at all. They walked on like two bashful children. At last Lida determined. With a deep intake of breath she began.

"Mr. Bennet!" She paused to control her emotions, all the little speeches she had planned and rehearsed were forgotten as wave after wave of blushes suffused her face. Bennet waited, himself as little under control as she, happy to be with the girl of whom he had been dreaming

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 constantly and yet dumb for her very presence. At last Lida continued.

"Mr. Bennet—I have long wanted to know you and to thank you for the service done me that day."

Bennet longed to take her tenderly in his arms, he had so often pictured the hope of such a right. He mastered the desire, however, remembering that he had sworn not to let her know he had overheard her vow that moonlight fall night. He waved a hand as if to pass the incident off lightly with: "Oh, it was a pleasure to serve you. I am glad I could help."

"You not only helped, you saved my life.—I can never hope to thank you sufficiently" she said fervently.

"You need not thank me. I would do it over again tonight and willingly." His voice vibrated like the basso of some stringed instrument.

"That's noble of you. And I'll never forget it." Her voice was sincerity itself.

"I don't think I'd say never, Miss Lauriston. Never, you know, is a long while—and sometimes, under stress we say things we soon forget—or may wish to forget."

"But I know myself. Besides your bravery was noble indeed and I'd be mean to forget it. I couldn't, Mr. Bennet—I couldn't. I only regret I have no way of showing you how much your noble action means to me."

"There is a way, Miss Lauriston—a real way—a way I'd appreciate to my dying day."

"You've only to make it known. When I think of the way you struggled to save us; of the mad mob that was

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 about us, and of your wound—Oh, it was cruel—cruel—cruel—and to think you did it for two unknown girls."

"Not for two, Miss Lauriston, but for one—for you." This was said in such a solemn tone that the girl, who had been looking off across the wide quadrangle of the campus turned quickly to him. There was a's adness in the tone that was convincing. The emotions that surged in both were two strong for utterance. For reply Lida touched his arm with the gentleness of a zephyr. For some reason Bennet was seized with a feeling of deep depression, as the arm still rested on his sleeve he said:

"There is one way in which you might please me, Miss Lauriston, and that is by permitting us to know real friendship. I hope I don't ask too much."

"Why, I already look on you as my friend and you always will be my friend. I could not be anything less."

"Friendship means something deeper to me than the word ordinarily means. Once a friend, always a friend, with me. Friendship means understanding, sympathy, interpretation of moods, generosity of spirit."

"It means all that and more to me also. Effort to impart happiness; a sharing of sunshine and clouds of life, loyalty. Those are some of my ideas of friendship and when I say you have my friendship and always will have it those are no idle words."

With the words they clasped hands. There was suddenly and unconsciously an upturning of her face toward his which looked down toward her. His arms stole about

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 her and her head drooped in his simplicity of frankness, to his breast while he whispered:

"Heart of Mine, I love you—I love you—I love you and always will. That is the friendship I want. I always have since first I saw you and I always will. It is not friendship I want—I want love—I want you. I want you as I have wanted nothing else in life." His voice trembled with deep emotion which overmastered him.

Lida remained motionless for a few moments filled with happiness and the consciousness that her love was returned while tears filled her eyes. Suddenly she said:

"Mr. Bennet, I am a simple girl. I have not been long out in the world. I don't know the ways of the world. What I said I mean. I have been told that men talk lightly and seldom mean what they say when they talk of love. Your words make me supremely happy for my heart has been yours. Please don't deceive me. I love you as only an honest true-hearted girl can love and I trust you. I hope my trust is not vain." This was said so earnestly and honestly Bennet was breathlessly pained. "I suppose it is brazen to be telling you this so frankly but I was brought up to be truthful and natural. You asked for my friendship. It is yours—my heart is yours—I trust you. If you deceive me I shall die. I know so little of the world and its ways. If you don't really love me, please don't deceive me. Take back your words and though I'll never forget them and will love you for them, I'll forgive you and we'll part friends."

As she concluded she looked up at Bennet's face which

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 was still turned to hers. There was infinite tenderness written there. Tenderness that was so strong as to make Lida regret her words. He pressed her head back to where it rested on his breast while he said:

"I know men, these days, speak lightly of love and pledge themselves without meaning to be serious. I am not of that kind. As I honor my mother so I mean my love to be true; so it shall be true. As we live and breathe my heart is yours and always will be. My Love, I love you. Let me whisper it again, I love you and ever will."

"If you really love me" the honesty of her heart in her words, "then night is day to me. There is no world but this in which we live, you and I. Nothing shall come between us. Nothing can come between us. Where you go my heart will be; where you are my dreams will attend you."

"Ah, Love of Mine," Bennet breathed, "those words are sweet. Sweetest I have heard since years ago when my mother used to sing us as children to sleep."

Lida drew a deep intake of breath. "Speaking of mothers" she said, "I have a token I would like to have you wear as emblem of our love and in memory of this night."

"I need no other emblem than your love, Girl of Mine" Bennet whispered.

"Oh, but, Truman—"

"Say that again, please," Bennet interrupted "it sounded so charming coming from your lips."

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 "It's my mother's ring, Truman, and I'd like to have you wear it. Just for me."

"I also have my mother's wedding ring. I hope you'll keep it for me and may it guard you as it has me." She touched it to her lips as she answered: "I shall love it—and treasure it."

Lida and Bennet had forgotten time and were only recalled to their senses when Louise Comstock came into the room and exclaimed:

"Oh, Lida, I have found you at last. I've been looking everywhere for you." When she recognized Bennet as Lida's escort a spasm of pain and smiles in combination passed over her face and she turned suddenly back into the great reception room. "Oh!" was the only word she uttered. When next noted by any of her friends she was bidding them good-bye, her wraps about her and her escort waiting.

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The spell under which Lida and Bennet had been influenced for the while was now broken and they returned to the reception room in time to see Louise departing. Lida started from Bennet's side toward the girl but before she could reach Louise the latter was halfway down the steps and running for the car which awaited them.

"Why—why—wh—wh—what's the matter with Louise?" Lida asked turning to Bennet. "She never acted like that before."

"I don't know," Bennet replied! "Never mind her, Girl of Mine. You'll see her at the school and perhaps she'll explain. I'm sure I don't know."

"But that's so unlike Louise. I can't understand it. I must go home and see what is the trouble."

Lida was not long in preparing for her departure and as she stepped from the reception room to the vestibule and started down the steps toward Bennet she seemed a queen stepping from some previous century and back into life. Bennet noted the lightness of her step and the happy beauty of her face. His entire being thrilled with gladness at the thought of having her love. Bennet ushered her tenderly into the car and they were off. The distance was so short from college to school that almost before they were seated the automobile in which they were riding drew up at the entrance to the school. They were loath to leave.

"Oh, here so soon?" Lida asked.

"Do you regret the shortness of this our first ride, Girl

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 of mine?" asked Truman, again his voice vibrating like some melodic basso string.

"I don't want to go in," she confessed. "I wish we might just ride on and on and on into the night and out of it into the daylight and beyond—anywhere, so long as I'm with you."

"That's noble of you, and I love you all the more for it. The stars of this night are my witnesses. I'll ever take care of you so that you ride only in happiness." Bennet pledged confidently. Youth reckons so little on circumstances and consequences.

At the pledge she touched her head to his breast for an instant, as if silently to drink in the intoxicating experience. "I didn't know love could be so good," she sighed. Her head rested but a moment, however, before the driver had dismounted and was opening the door for them to alight. Bennet lifted her lightly from the car and escorted her up the steps and into the vestibule. There they stood a moment in parting embrace.

"I hate to leave you—Don't go, Truman, my love. I wish we might never part. I hate so to let you go. This is the happiest hour of my life. Do you blame me then for wanting to prolong it?" she asked.

"How could I blame the one I love. If parting be painful to you how much more painful must it be to me. I have been heart hungry for love like yours.

"I'll try to be both mother and sweetheart to you, Truman.—I must say good-night now and yet I hate to. Good night dear heart—May God's best angels guard you.

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 As sleep overtakes me tonight I'll whisper your name, Truman."

"Good night. Heaven has been good to me in giving me you. A gift I shall ever cherish. A gift in which I already feel I am envied. How happy I am!"

"Let's try and temper our happiness, Truman, so it will last. I want our love to last; not be like the love of so many nowadays. With so many it is a case of off with the old love on with the new. I could not love that way. One lasting love mine shall be.—Good night, Dear—and may God keep you."

Bennet, as he reviewed the scene walking to his room failed to recall how he reached the street. His happiness was so intoxicating as to have cheated his memory of the moments intervening between his farewell with Lida and his reaching the sidewalk in front of the school. When he found himself he seemed to be gliding above the sidewalk and not touching the ground at all. This was the beginning of a happiness that continued until long after the holidays and well into the spring term.

This being Bennet's last year in college the lovers busied themselves, between studies, with planning for their home. Prom week came, one of the annual institutions of every New England college, a time when books were forgotten and the heart of youth was the only serious study undertaken. Girls at Miss Gregory's were busy with their party plans, their dresses and their beaus. The engagement of Bennet and Lida was well established in the minds of all the girls despite efforts on the part of the two at concealing

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 the fact from the general public. All the girls were aware of the state of affairs with the single exception of the head of the school. With proverbial consistency the only person who should have known most of all of the engagement was the one person who did not, Miss Gregory.

Following the encounter of Louise Comstock with Lida and Bennet at the President's reception intercourse between the two girls was strained and difficult. Lida was so centered in her studies and Bennet, that she gave little heed to the incident and the two girls having no classes together, any personal contact or confidences was easily avoided, particularly since Louise made a very studied effort to escape contact where possible. From the hour of the reception, however, there came over Louise Comstock a mood that changed her from a happy hearted and usually frank girl into a quiet, taciturn and somewhat morose miss.

The occasion for the change disclosed itself, when lessons aside a group of the young women had ensconced themselves in the corner of the great reception room on the main floor of the school, amid a profusion of sofa pillows and were discussing partners and escorts for the dance, the feature of Prom week.

"Paul will be here from Yale, just think of that girls!" chattered one of the group.

"Yes, and Harry will come to take me. He wrote me yesterday that he could get away," spoke up another.

Louise Comstock was just coming into the room from one of the upper floors when several of the girls spoke at once:

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 "Who's going to take you, to the dance, Louise?" She hesitated and flushed before speaking. She had had several of the young men from college inviting her to be their guests but had refused them all. She was hoping for an invitation from one, but that one never realized, so never asked her. Pressed for an answer, as the girls grouped themselves about her she waved them aside with only the words, "wait and see."

"Oh, I hate mysteries. Why make one of this, Louise. Come on, be a sport, tell us. I'm not afraid to say, Paul will take me. Harry is to take Madge and we each know who the other girls' fussers are. Who's yours."

"Wait and see," was all she would answer. With that she departed. When she left, however, there was determination in her mind. It was rather a bold move and she flushed as she determined but decided to go through with it. Going to her room she hastily scribbled a note, donned her wraps and left for the street as if to mail it. She walked toward the men's college and when near there espied a small boy peddling papers.

"Take this note to the address on it—and here's a dime for your trouble."

The urchin took the note in his soiled hands, looked at the dime then read the address and answered, knowingly, "Yes Miss. Any answer?"

"No. Just say I'm waiting" she suggested.

The youngster made his way across the campus to the main college hall and up to Bennet's room. After rapping on the door and being bidden to enter, the boy asked:

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 "Is Mr. Bennet here?"

"This is Mr. Bennet," answered Truman at which the note was handed to him. The boy waited while Bennet read:

Dear Mr. Bennet:

I know this is unconventional but I would like a few words with you. I'll be waiting at the main gate.

The Girl you rescued.

At reading the signature Bennet immediately thought of Lida but the note not being in her handwriting he realized it was not she who wished to see him. He had forgotten Louise for the time. He reread the note and stood gazing at it till recalled by the words of the newsboy who was still waiting.

"She's a swell Dame that's waitin' for youze" he volunteered hoping for another tip, knowing from experience the prodigality of college boys, particularly where note carrying was concerned. He was disappointed, however, for Bennet instead of handing him another coin or making any remark got into his hat and coat and strode down the stairs. At the gate he was greeted with an extended hand, and:

"How do you do, Mr. Bennet?"

Bennet raised his hat and smiled, a little bit puzzled; then waited for the girl to speak again.

"I suppose I'm very bold and I've lost in your estimation but I've wanted for ever so long to let you know how grateful I was for the way you came to our rescue that afternoon last fall. At first I did not know who you were,

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 and could not thank you; then I have not seen you very much since, and there has been no opportunity."

"Oh, there's no need for thanks, Miss—Miss—Comstock?" He recalled the name at mention of the rescue. "I sincerely hope you are recovered and have not suffered from the experience."

Louise placed her hands over her heart to still the perturbation there but failed. Her breath came in short puffs and confusion suffused her face. She was glad to note that Bennet had not embarrassed her by failing to remember her.

"I shall never forget your bravery, Mr. Bennet—and I can never thank you enough. You don't know how often I wished for the opportunity to personally express my gratitude," she exclaimed. "It never came so I sought it tonight. Do you think the less of me for it."

"On the contrary I honor you for the frankness you've shown. In these days of flappers and feminism it is thoroughly in keeping with the times that you should act with freedom."

"You'll think me bolder still and less feminine when I tell you that I have a great favor to ask of you"—she touched his arm as she essayed to speak. "Now don't pledge yourself till you know what it is. That wouldn't be fair to you. I have a special reason for asking.—It is that you allow me to be your guest at the dance."

The two had been walking slowly along the twilight brightened street. When she made the request, Bennet halted and faced the girl, surprise almost taking his breath

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 away. Bennet thought of Lida then wondered. He looked at the girl at his side and saw only earnestness and sincerity in her face. At first he was on the point of denouncing her but at sight of the seriousness mirrored in her countenance he controlled himself and was all sympathy.

"You can't really mean that, Miss Comstock. You're joking" Bennet managed to say.

"I'm in deep earnest, Mr. Bennet." The tone proved her sincerity.

The solemnity with which the words were uttered and the expression on the girl's face were convincing. They had paused in their walk and stood facing each other. There was a long silence in which the nervous breathing of each could be heard. One could also almost hear the throbbing of the girl's heart. Bennet spoke at last, in his deep vibrant voice.

"Pardon me. I couldn't sense it at first. I'm sorry—very sorry I cannot, however much I like to oblige a lady and relieve her of the embarrassment of such a situation. I would not have had this happen for the world. Why,—don't you know of my engagement—Miss Comstock you can't be serious. I'm engaged to Miss Lida Lauriston. Didn't you know that?"

"Engaged to Lida? Oh-h-h-h—I didn't know. I didn't know. I didn't know." At these words the girl was overcome with a fit of weeping for a few moments, great spasms of grief shaking her entire body. Suddenly, with teats blinding her she wheeled and hurriedly—almost ran from him.

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Bennet's heart was full of compassion for the girl and her distress over her disappointment, knowing what depth of feeling must have prompted her to make such a request of him. He returned to his room, a feeling of deep misery enveloping him because of the unavoidable hurt he had given the girl.

Yet what could he do? He tried to discover wherein he had been to blame for placing the girl in such a situation, yet could find no such occasion. True he had known her casually since the previous year when they had met but they had never been in each other's company for more than a few minutes at each time and he had never given her any attention. He felt that he must have been to blame in some way and yet could recall no occasion. He was miserable over the situation, being of high ideals as to his conduct with girls. He puzzled for some time over the situation, as he sat at his desk when he had returned to his room but try as he would to find wherein he was to blame for the situation he could not. His heart was heavy as he retired and for the first time in many weeks closed his eyes without the picture of Lida Lauriston in his mind.

Rage, confusion, humiliation and chagrin surged through Louise Comstock's being as she ran from Bennet and started back for her school. Rage because she had failed to find in him the response she desired; chagrin to think that he loved another girl when she loved him so, con-

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 fusion at the thought of the position in which she had placed herself, in his estimation and humiliation at the thought that she must attend the reception, if at all, alone having refused all other invitations hoping to be invited by Bennet. Tears of blinding anger flowed down her cheeks unheeded as she hurried along.

Self pity at her disappointment filled her for a time and then anger returned. It was not anger, however, directed against Bennet. They say Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned but while this may be true Louise found no anger in her heart at this moment against Bennet. Her anger was against the fate that permitted another to have what she sought, a man's heart and love. She reached her room she knew not how, without being observed by any of the other girls and threw herself sobbingly on her bed where she lay for several hours alternately crying softly and groaning in anguish. Bitterness filled her being and for a time she was overwhelmed with desire to die.

She refused to leave her room the following day, remaining all day without food and with the shades drawn, her tears having been exhausted, her anguish having brought upon her a raging headache. When the other girls found she was ill each offered to remain with her and to help in whatever way they could, to relieve her. All their proffers were refused, however.

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It was late in the afternoon when Lida heard of the illness of her friend, and with the compassion of one whose heart is filled with love she hurried to her friend's room. Love chastens some persons causing them to feel more deeply the sufferings of others, and it has such an effect on some of those in love that they feel more tenderly toward all suffering. True love, by reflection, so radiates itself that its effects are felt on those even not the direct object of that love. It was so with Lida. She was so completely in love herself that the intoxication of it expanded to take in those about her. It was in this gentle, expanding mood that she approached the door of Louise Comstock's room, turned the knob softly so as not to disturb the girl if she was sleeping and tiptoed gently in and toward the bed.

Menacing calmness had succeeded the spasms of weeping and the paroxysms of grief that had racked the girl's body and mind for the past twenty-four hours and she lay, quiet on her pillow, eyes half closed revolving in her mind a new determination, the idea of which had come to her but shortly before and had given her the relief her emotions needed. Her face was still twisted as if from pain, thus taking on a new aspect, new to the Louise Comstock her companions had known till then. There was something almost diabolic in the smile that saved her face from distortion completely.

Lida approached the bed and was about to speak when

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 the reclining girl raised herself on her pillow, resting on an elbow, hair streaming over her shoulders and gown in disarray, eyes dilated to fury dimensions while she pointed to the door.

"Get out of my room—I hate you—I hate you," she almost hissed. "Go-go-go"—she repeated in frenzy.

"No, I won't go, Louise, you poor dear. You're suffering." Lida concluded the girl was out of her mind.

"Go—get out," the reclining girl almost screamed. "I don't want to see you."

"You poor dear. I won't leave you. You're suffering. Won't you tell me what ails you and let me help you?" Lida persisted pityingly.

"I want none of your help—I want none of you" Louise still raged.

Lida wondered what had come of the girl. She was not long in ignorance, however, for Louise continued.

"You've come here to tell me Truman Bennet is to take you to the reception. Come here to gloat over me with your conquest—come here to torment me. Get out—I want nothing to do with you."

Lida was about to speak but the girl interrupted.

"Don't say a word. I know. He told me—You're engaged—you're engaged. Yes, you're engaged but you'll never marry him. You'll only hurt him. Your pride won't let you."

Lida attempted to protest again but the girl raged on.

"You'll never marry him, I say, when you know that

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 you're engaged to a man with Negro blood in him. He is a Negro. Do you hear me? He's a Negro."

Lida waited for no more. She bolted from the room and left the girl screaming the words that burned into her ears and into her heart. She knew not what to do. She rushed to her room and locked the door, cast herself on her bed, feeling as if the world was strangling her, smothering her and stifling her. She gasped, clutched at her throat and tossed. She wanted to cry—wanted to think, wanted to scream but was powerless in the grip of what Louise Comstock had said. One moment she thought the girl must be mad, stark mad and the next doubt and the possibility of her words being true sent panic into her soul.

She turned and faced the ceiling, staring wild-eyed, on through the top of the room into space. As never before she was wishing she had a mother to whom she could turn and talk. There was nothing but despair for her. Helpless black despair. What if the words of Louise Comstock were true? What if there was blood of that despised race in his veins. He surely did not look like one with a trace of Negro blood in him. True he did look like a foreigner. As she began to analyze the face and features of Bennet she could detect no trace of Negro blood in him. His swarthiness, however, gave her some cause for doubt. She seemed to be caught in a tangling net of circumstances that was gripping her more and more strongly as she became weaker and weaker. She could not cry. The situation was too appalling for tears. What could she do? As she pondered she pictured, almost for the first time since

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 leaving home, Mrs. Cottman as she pronounced the curse on the Lauriston family.

She decided to return to Louise's room and make sure she had heard aright and that the girl was insane. Thought of the possibility of the words being true, however, deterred her. She wrestled with the torturing situation alone. She was on the verge of insanity herself from thinking over the words. Her lips became dry and parched; her room stiffling to the point of suffocation.

The hours rushed by and she was still neither near relief nor able to think herself free of the situation. Along toward midnight the moon rose and along with this a slight breeze began to stir. With a sudden gust of wind a shutter at her window swung open and the beams of a soft night shining moon streamed into the room. As the light came in she recalled the night in the fall when she had prayed from that window to be given the man she loved. As she lived through that scene again relief seemed to come to her and tortures to vanish from her mind.

As they disappeared in their place came a resolution to seek the facts as to Louise's statements from Bennet himself. She felt so sure her worries had been baseless and the words of her schoolmate those of a raving irresponsible madness, that at last sleep overcame her and she dozed into fitful dreams. The sun was high in the morning sky before she opened her eyes again. When she did, however, her worries returned. Both her heart and head began to pain intensely, maddeningly. The words of her schoolmate again burned themselves so hotly into her soul that

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 she sickened at the thought. Doubt as to their truth and fear that they were true surged through her in alternating waves.

When she recalled the so many persons of her own district and section at home who were mulatto or lighter, and who had a trace of Negro blood in them the words of Louise seemed too painfully, torturingly true. She had never given such things a thought before. What was she to do now? She had given her pledged word as well as her heart to this man. What if he was of Negro blood. She felt she could not bear the thought. She, in whose veins ran the proud blood of many of the historic families of her state, blood of colonists, Revolutionary blood, and the blood of the best families of the state.

She wept till she became tearless and intense burning hot pains shot through her temples and eyes. All thought became maddening. She felt she could no longer endure the strain. She must know the truth. So engrossed was she in her problem that she failed to hear the rapping at her door when the maid came three times to arouse her for her classes and so that the room could be tidied up for the day. As noon approached at last the maid became alarmed and notified Miss Gregory. The latter who had also learned of the indisposition of Louise Comstock became alarmed lest an epidemic was about to be discovered in the school. This she dreaded and it was with much apprehension that she hurried to Lida's room.

When Miss Gregory reached the room, however, Lida had returned to her former decision, which was to see

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 Bennet and to learn the truth of the accusation from him. Her whole body was in agony; head seeming to split and eyes burning like coals of fire. Miss Gregory, quick to sense the fact that Lida's trouble was mental, in her motherly way went over to the girl and placed an arm about her waist as she tried to comfort her.

"Tell me your trouble, Dear, won't you? I'll help you" she urged.

"No, you can't help me, I'm afraid. I must face this alone." Lida spoke with determination tinged with misgiving and a sense of hopelessness.

The sympathetic, motherly tone, however, brought tears to the hot eyes of the girl again and she burst into a paroxysm of weeping; Miss Gregory gently pulled the head of the weeping girl to her shoulder, and the two sat on the wide divan at the side of the room, the girl weeping and sobbing heartbrokenly.

"Tell me what troubles you, Child; I'll help you.—Don't cry any more," Miss Gregory pleaded in a motherly way.

Lida only shook her head between sobs, however, feeling that she could not confide her trouble to anyone. Her storm of grief passed after a time, and sobs ceased to shake her body as Miss Gregory's calm voice soothed.

"I promised your father I would look after you like a mother, and if you continue to cry your heart out in this manner your father will blame me."

At the mention of her father Lida again felt tears surge to her eyes but bit her lip and fought them back. After

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 trying to persuade the girl to confide in her Miss Gregory finally gave up the attempt with:

"Well, nothing is so bad that time will not bring forgetfulness of the pain and if you two girls have quarrelled, since Louise is suffering as you are, then it won't be long before you will be friends again."

She chanced this as a guess, having tried also without success to get the cause of her grief from Louise Comstock and failing as she had in this case, knowing that the two girls had been chums and that they both seemed stricken with the same grief cause. Even this brought no response from Lida as it had none from Louise. The latter, however, held to her secret grief and decided to wait till she could question her lover and hear the truth from his own lips.

College youth knows how to provide places in anticipation of the time and the girl for those little tete-a-tetes which so delight the young heart, and this occasion was no exception. For the dance, the big feature of this special prom week the large gymnasium floor had been transformed into a bower. Tropical potted plants were everywhere in profusion, giving the large hall the appearance of some southern garden, with draperies and bunting completely covering the walls, limbs of fir trees with the green needles pendant, standing guard against the walls while the room at the head of the hall, which was used ordinarily for instructors in classes and as office, was partitioned off with plants behind which the orchestra played music that fairly teased bodies and feet into rhythm. The

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