The Call of the Cumberlands

* * * * * "Drennie," pleaded Wilfred Horton, as the two leaned on the deck rail

of the Mauretania, returning from Europe, "are you going to hold

me off indefinitely? I've served my seven years for Rachel, and thrown

in some extra time. Am I no nearer the goal?"

The girl looked at the oily heave of the leaden and cheerless

Atlantic, and its somber tones found reflection in her eyes. She shook

her head.

"I wish I knew," she said, wearily. Then, she added, vehemently: "I'm

not worth it, Wilfred. Let me go. Chuck me out of your life as a little

pig who can't read her own heart; who is too utterly selfish to decide

upon her own life."

"Is it"--he put the question with foreboding--"that, after all, I was

a prophet? Have you--and South--wiped your feet on the doormat marked

'Platonic friendship'? Have you done that, Drennie?"

She looked up into his eyes. Her own were wide and honest and very

full of pain.

"No," she said; "we haven't done that, yet. I guess we won't.... I

think he'd rather stay outside, Wilfred. If I was sure I loved him, and

that he loved me, I'd feel like a cheat--there is the other girl to

think of.... And, besides, I'm not sure what I want myself.... But I'm

horribly afraid I'm going to end by losing you both."

Horton stood silent. It was tea-time, and from below came the strains

of the ship's orchestra. A few ulster-muffled passengers gloomily paced

the deck.

"You won't lose us both, Drennie," he said, steadily. "You may lose

your choice--but, if you find yourself able to fall back on

substitutes, I'll still be there, waiting."

For once, he did not meet her scrutiny, or know of it. His own eyes

were fixed on the slow swing of heavy, gray-green waters. He was

smiling, but it is as a man smiles when he confronts despair, and

pretends that everything is quite all right. The girl looked at him

with a choke in her throat.

"Wilfred," she said, laying her hand on his arm, "I'm not worth

worrying over. Really, I'm not. If Samson South proposed to me to-day,

I know that I should refuse him. I am not at all sure that I am the

least little bit in love with him. Only, don't you see I can't be quite

sure I'm not? It would be horrible if we all made a mistake. May I have

till Christmas to make up my mind for all time? I'll tell you then,

dear, if you care to wait."