have maintained an unbroken silence for quite a time."
"I have been wondering how to begin speaking of the subject which weighs so heavily on my mind, and I think the best way is to break right into it."
"Yes," assented Sally; "so do I."
"It is about our betrothal," he began, brusquely. "I want to ask you a plain, frank question, Miss Pendleton, and I hope you will be equally as frank with me; and that is, do you consider what you are pleased to call your betrothal to me, and which I considered at the time only a girlish prank, actually binding?"
He stopped short in the wooded path they were treading, and looked her gravely in the face – a look that forced an answer. She was equal to the occasion.
"Of course I do, Mr. Gardiner," she cried, with a jolly little laugh that sounded horrible in his ears. "And wasn't it romantic? Just like one of those stories one reads in those splendid French novels, I laughed – "
"Pray be serious, Miss Pendleton," cut in Gardiner, biting his lip fiercely to keep back an angry retort. "This is not a subject for merriment, I assure you, and I had hoped to have a sensible conversation with you concerning it – to show each of us a way out of it, if that is possible."
"I do not wish to be set free, as you phrase it, Mr. Gardiner," she answered, defiantly. "I am perfectly well pleased to have matters just as they are, I assure you."
His face paled; the one hope which had buoyed him up died suddenly in his heart.
Sally Pendleton's face flushed hotly; her eyes fell.
"I will try to win your liking," she replied.
"It is a man's place to win," he said, proudly; "women should be won," he added, with much emphasis. "When two people marry without love, they must run all the risk such a union usually incurs."
"Pardon me, but I may as well speak the truth; you are the last girl on earth whom I could love. It grieves me to wound you, but it is only just that you should know the truth. Now will you insist upon carrying out the contract?"
"As I have told you from the start, my answer will always be the same."
"We will walk back to the hotel," he said, stiffly.
She rose from the mossy log and accompanied him without another word. At last he broke the silence.
"I am a gentleman," he said, "and am in honor bound to carry out this contract, if you can not be induced to release me."
"That is the only sensible view for you to take," she said.
He crushed back the angry words that rose to his lips. He had never disliked a woman before, but he could not help but own to himself that he hated the girl by his side – the girl whom fate had destined that he should marry.
CHAPTER VI
As Jay Gardiner and Sally walked to the hotel the young man had made up his mind that the wedding should be put off as much as possible.
Suddenly Sally touched him on the arm just as they reached the flight of steps leading to the veranda.
"I have one request to make of you," she said. "Please do not tell any of my folks that you do not care for me, and that it is not a bonâ-fide love-match."
He bowed coldly.
She went on: "Mamma has a relative – an old maiden cousin, ever so old – who liked my picture so well that she declared she would make me her heiress. She's worth almost as much as you are. They named me after her – Sally Rogers Pendleton. That's how I happen to have such a heathenish name. But I'll change it quick enough after the old lady dies and leaves me her money.
"And you will call to see me often?" asked Sally.
"Before I promise that, I must ask what you call 'often.'"
"You should take me out riding every afternoon, and call at least every other evening."
Again that angry look crossed Jay's handsome face.
"In this case the usual customs must be waived," he answered, haughtily. "I will call for you when I drive. That must suffice."
Jay Gardiner's thoughts were not any too pleasant as he wended his way to his boarding-house. He had always prided himself on his skill in evading women, lest a drag-net in the hands of some designing woman might insnare him. Now he had been cleverly outwitted by an eighteen-year-old girl.
He suddenly lost all pleasure in driving. He was thankful for the rainy week that followed, as he was not obliged to take Sally out driving.
One day a telegram came from New York, requesting his immediate presence in that city to attend a critical case. With no little satisfaction he bid the Pendletons good-bye.
"We intend to cut short our summer outing. We will return to New York in a fortnight, and then I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you as often as possible," Sally remarked.
"I lead a very busy life in the city," he said. "A doctor's time is not his own."
"I shall not enjoy staying here after you have gone," she said, a trifle wistfully.
But he paid little heed to the remark.
The happiest moment of his life was when the train steamed out of Lee.
"Why don't you stay over and see the next race?" said one of his friends, wringing his hand on the platform of the car.
"I shall never go to another race," he remarked, savagely.
"What! were you a plunger at the last race?" asked his friend.
But Jay Gardiner made no answer.
"I am sorry if I have called up bitter recollections," laughed his friend.
Then the bell sounded, and the train moved on.
Jay Gardiner turned resolutely away from the window, that he might not catch a look of the hotel.
"I wonder if my patient, Miss Rogers, and the relative this girl speaks of are one and the same person?" he asked himself.
He had once saved the life of this Miss Rogers, and since that time she had been a devoted friend of his.
She was a most kind, estimable woman, and he admired her for her noble character. Surely she could not be the lady of whom Sally Pendleton spoke so derisively?
He reached the city at last, and, without taking time to refresh himself, hurried to see who it was that needed his help.
It was eleven o'clock, and the crowds on the streets of the great metropolis had begun to thin out.
His office clerk, who was expecting him, said, in answer to his inquiry:
"It is Miss Rogers, sir. She is dangerously ill, and will have no other doctor."
"I will go to her at once," said Jay Gardiner.
But at that moment a man who had been hurt in a railway accident was brought in, and he was obliged to devote half an hour of his valuable time in dressing his wounds.
