John Ward, Preacher | Page 8

his big figure looming up in the darkness, "it's this talk of friendship, Lois, that I cannot stand. You see, I love you."
There was silence for one long moment. It was so still they could hear the bubbling of the spring, like a soft voice, complaining in the darkness. Then Lois said, under her breath, "Oh, Gifford!"
"Yes, I do," he went on, desperately. "I know you've never thought of such a thing; somehow, I could not seem to make you see it,--you wouldn't see it; but I do love you, and--and, Lois--if you could care, just a little? I've loved you so long."
Lois shrank back against the silver-poplar tree, and put her hands up to her face. In a moment tenderness made the young man forget his anxiety. "Did I startle you?" he said, sitting down beside her; but he did not take her hand, as he might have done in their old frank friendship. "I'm so sorry, but I couldn't help telling you. I know you've been unconscious of it, but how could a fellow help loving you, Lois? And I couldn't go away to Lockhaven and not know if there was any chance for me. Can you care, a--little?"
She did not speak until he said again, his voice trembling with a sudden hope, "Won't you say one word, Lois?"
"Why, Giff," she said, sitting up very straight, and looking at him, her wet eyes shining in the darkness, "you know I care--I've always cared, but not that way--and--and--you don't, Giff, you don't really--it's just a fancy."
"It is not a fancy," he answered quietly. "I knew I loved you that first time I came home from college. But you were too young; it would not have been right. And then before I went abroad, I tried to tell you once; but I thought from the way you spoke you did not care. So I didn't say anything more; but I love you, and I always shall."
"Oh, Gifford," Lois cried, with a voice full of distress, "you mustn't! Why, don't you see? You're just like my brother. Oh, do please let us forget all this, and let's be just as we used to be."
"We cannot," he said gently. "But I won't make you unhappy; I won't speak if you tell me to be silent."
"Indeed, I do tell you to be silent," she said, in a relieved tone. "I--could not, Giff. So we'll just forget it. Promise me you will forget it?"
He shook his head, with a slow smile. "You must forget it, if it will make you any happier; but you cannot ask me to forget. I am happier to remember. I shall always love you, Lois."
"But you mustn't!" she cried again. "Why can't we have just the old friendship? Indeed--indeed, it never could be anything else; and," with a sudden break of tenderness in her voice, "I--I really am so fond of you, Giff!"
Here the young man smiled a little bitterly. Friendship separated them as inexorably as though it had been hate!
"And," the girl went on, gaining confidence as she spoke, for argument cleared the air of sentiment, in which she felt as awkward as she was unkind, "and you know there are a good many things you don't like in me; you think I have lots of faults,--you know you do."
"I suppose I do, in a way," he acknowledged; "but if I didn't love you so much, Lois, I would not notice them."
Lois held her head a little higher, but did not speak. He watched her twist her fingers nervously together; she had forgotten to take off the little ring of braided grass.
"I am so sorry, Giff," she said, to break the silence,--"oh, so sorry. I--I can't forgive myself."
"There is nothing to forgive," he answered gently; "and you must not distress yourself by thinking that I am unhappy. I am better, Lois, yes, and happier, because I love you. It shall be an inspiration to me all my life, even if you should forget all about me. But I want you to make me one promise, will you?"
She hesitated. "If I can, Giff;" and then, with sudden trustfulness, she added, "Yes, I will. What is it?"
She had risen, and was standing on the step above him. He looked at her nervous little hands a moment, but did not touch them, and then he said, "If the time ever comes when you can love me, tell me so. I ask you this, Lois, because I cannot bear to distress you again by speaking words of love you do not want to hear, and yet I can't help hoping; and I shall always love you, but it shall be in silence. So if the day ever does come when you can love me, promise to tell me."
"Oh, yes," she said, glad