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before her.

      For just how long that lasted, she knew not, but only that her wild mood was gradually subsiding, and that she felt herself sinking back, as a bird sinks after its flight; then suddenly she turned. Arthur was at her side, and she gave a cry, for he had seized her hand in his, and was covering it with burning kisses.

      “Arthur! Arthur!” she gasped.

      The young man gazed up at her, and Helen remembered the scene in the forest, and realized what she had done. She had shaken him to the very depths of his being by the emotion which she had flung loose before him, and he seemed beside himself at that moment, his hair disordered and his forehead hot and flushed. He made a move as if to clasp the girl in his arms, and Helen tore her hand loose by main force and sprang back to the doorway.

      “Arthur!” she cried. “What do you mean?”

      He clutched at a chair for support, and stood staring at her. For fully a minute they remained thus, Helen trembling with alarm; then his head sank, and he flung himself down upon the sofa, where he lay sobbing passionately. Helen remained gazing at him with wide open and astonished eyes.

      “Arthur!” she exclaimed again.

      But he did not hear her, for the cruel sobbing that shook his frame. Helen, as soon as her first alarm had passed, came softly nearer, till she stood by the sofa; but still he did not heed her, and she did not dare even to put her hand upon his shoulder. She was afraid of him, her dearest friend, and she knew not what to make of him.

      “Arthur,” she whispered again, when he was silent for a moment. “Please speak to me, Arthur.”

      The other gazed up at her with a look of such helpless despair and longing upon his face that Helen was frightened still more. He had been sobbing as if his heart would break, but his eyes were dry.

      “What is the matter?” she cried.

      The young man answered her hoarsely: “Can you not see what is the matter, Helen? I love you! And you drive me mad!”

      The girl turned very pale, and lowered her eyes before his burning gaze.

      “Helen,” the other went on impetuously, “you will break my heart if you treat me in this way. Do you not know that for three long years I have been dreaming of you, and of the promise that you gave me? You told me that you loved me, and that you always would love me! You told me that the night before you went away; and you kissed me. All this time I have been thinking of that kiss, and cherishing the memory of it, and waiting for you to return. I have labored for no other reason, I have had no other hope in the world; I have kept your image before me, and lived in it, and worshiped before it, and the thought of you has been all that I had. When I was tired and worn and ill I could only think of you and remember your promise, and count the days before your return. And, oh, it has been so long that I could not stand it! For weeks I have been so impatient, and so filled with the thought of the day when I might see you again that I have been helpless and half mad; for I thought that I should take your hand in mine and claim your promise. And this morning I wandered about the woods for hours, waiting for you to come. And see how you have treated me!”

      He buried his face in his hands again, and Helen stood gazing at him, breathing very fast with alarm, and unable to find a word to say.

      “Helen,” he groaned, without looking up again, “do you not know that you are beautiful? Have you no heart? You fling your soul bare before me, and you fill me with this fearful passion; you will drive me mad!”

      “But, Arthur,” she protested, “I could not think of you so; I thought of you as my brother, and I meant to make you happy.”

      “Tell me, then,” he gasped, staring at her, “tell me once for all. You do not love me, Helen?”

      The girl answered with a frank gaze that was cruel, “No, Arthur.”

      “And you can never love me? You take back the promise that you made me?”

      “I told you that I was only a child, Arthur; it has been a long time since I have thought of it.”

      The young man choked back a sob. “Oh, Helen, if you only knew what cruel words those are,” he groaned. “I cannot bear them.”

      He gazed at her with his burning eyes, so that the girl lowered hers again. “Tell me!” he exclaimed. “What am I to do?”

      “Can we not remain friends, just as we used to be?” she asked pleadingly. “Can we not talk together and help each other as before? Oh, Arthur, I thought you would come here to live all summer, and how I should like it! Why can you not? Can you not let me play for you without—without—” and Helen stopped, and flushed a trifle; “I do not know quite what to make of you to-day,” she added.

      She was speaking kindly, but to the man beside her with his burning heart, her words were hard to hear; he stared at her, shuddering, and then suddenly he clenched his hands and started to his feet.

      “Helen,” he cried, “there is but one thing. I must go!”

      “Go?” echoed Helen.

      “If I stay here and gaze at you I shall go mad with despair,” he exclaimed incoherently. “Oh, I shall go mad! For I do love you, and you talk to me as if I were a child! Helen, I must get this out of my heart in some way, I cannot stay here.”

      “But, Arthur,” the girl protested, “I told father you would stay, and you will make yourself ill, for you have walked all day.”

      Every word she uttered was more torment to the other, for it showed him how much his hopes were gone to wreck. He rushed across the room and opened the door; then, however, he paused, as if that had cost him all his resolution. He gazed at the girl with a look of unspeakable yearning, his face white, and his limbs trembling beneath him.

      “You wish me to go, Helen?” he exclaimed.

      “Wish you!” exclaimed Helen, who was watching him in alarm. “Of course not; I want you to stay and see father, and—”

      “And hear you tell me that you do not love me! Oh, Helen, how can you say it again? Can you not see what you have done to me?”

      “Arthur!” cried the girl.

      “Yes, what you have done to me! You have made me so that I dare not stay near you. You must love me, Helen, oh, some time you must!” And he came toward her again, stretching out his arms to her. As she sprang back, frowning, he stopped and stood for an instant, half sinking; then he whirled about and darted out of the door.

      Helen was scarcely able to realize at first that he was gone, but when she looked out she saw that he was already far down the street, walking swiftly. For a moment she thought of calling him; but she checked herself, and closed the door quietly instead, after which she walked slowly across the room. In the center of it she stopped still, gazing in front of her thoughtfully, and looking very grave indeed. “That is dreadful,” she said slowly. “I had no idea of such a thing. What in the world am I to do?”

      There was a tall mirror between the two windows of the room, and Helen went toward it and stood in front of it, gazing earnestly at herself. “Is it true, then, that I am so very beautiful?” she mused. “And even Arthur must fall in love with me!”

      Helen's face was still flushed with the glory of her ride with the Storm-King; she smoothed back the long strands of golden hair that had come loose, and then she looked at herself again. “It is dreadful,” she said once more, half aloud, “I do not think I ever felt so nervous in my life, and I don't know what to do; everything I did to please him seemed only to make him more miserable. I wanted him to be happy with me; I wanted him to stay with me.” And she walked away frowning, and seated herself at the piano and began peevishly striking at the keys. “I am going to write to him and tell him that he must get over that dreadfulness,” she muttered after a while, “and come back and be friends with me. Oakdale will be too stupid without him all summer, and I should be miserable.”

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