Herself hidden by a screen of foliage, she peered forth cautiously, searching with her eyes the thicket beyond. At first, she could distinguish nothing, and, after a little, became convinced that she had been deceived by the dropping of a rotted branch. She was on the point of advancing again, when another and louder sound arrested her. It issued from a place somewhat farther to the right than that she had scrutinized, and now, as she watched intently, she made out the dim form of some object moving slowly within a clump of high bushes, from the center of which grew a thick-leafed sapling. Another minute of inspection convinced her that the object was a man, and immediately an intuition bore upon her that it was Masters himself. Sure of his identity, she went forward quickly, following the impulse of the moment, and called him by name.
Masters—for it was in truth the engineer—whirled and faced the girl with an expression of terror, which, however, vanished so swiftly that May afterward found herself wondering if in fact she had not merely imagined it. Moreover, he smiled on her with more tenderness than he had exhibited in his manner for days, and his voice, when he spoke, was caressing:
“You, May!” he cried. His tones indicated a joyous surprise over the unexpected meeting. “You, too, are rivaling the lark this morning, like myself. I woke up three hours ago, and, when I found there was no chance to get to sleep again, I decided to commune with nature. I’ve been trailing a wonderful moth, but I’ve lost it at last, I’m sorry to say. It was a beauty!” He paused from the flow of words, which had been perhaps a trifle too rapid for entire sincerity, and regarded the girl with a glance that was at once fond and quizzical. “And did you, too, have a touch of insomnia?” he inquired.
May nodded, rather listlessly. For some reason that she could not understand, she was not convinced by the specious suavity of the engineer’s utterance. At the back of her mind was a belief that the man was lying, though she refused to allow the accusation place. Her instinct revolted against the disloyalty of the fellow. Nevertheless, her heart was moved to a last struggle in behalf of the love to which she had once so joyously surrendered herself. She determined on an appeal to that better nature which she believed the engineer to possess:
“Hartley,” she said softly, “I wish you to do something for me—no, for yourself. I want you to give up this mad idea of securing the gold Mr. Abernethey hid.” The gaze of her dark eyes was full of affectionate pleading.
The reply of Masters was prompt, without any least trace of hesitancy. He put out his hand, and took hers, pressing it tenderly.
“Dearest,” he said softly, “you have been right, and I have been wrong. I see it now. I was carried away for a little while by my longing for money. I wanted it for you, not for myself altogether—you must know that. Now, I have repented. It was my conscience that kept me awake last night. I have already abandoned the idea of trying to get hold of a fortune that doesn’t rightly belong to me. Can you forgive me, dearest? I’ve been a little mad, I think.” He paused, and, in the silence that followed, drew her to him, and kissed her very gently on the forehead.
May accepted the embrace—knew not, indeed, how to refuse it, although it failed to thrill her with that rapture which she had once known in his arms. Instead, she sighed in a confusion of emotions, which she herself was far from understanding. As a matter of fact, however, this was the beginning of the end. At last, under the stress of doubt inflicted persistently on her higher nature, the physical attraction exerted by Masters, which, unknown to her, had been the impelling cause for the activity of her imagination in making him an ideal, this potency of sex charm was overwhelmed by the essential antagonism between her soul and his. A certain shyness held her mute, so that Masters was well content with the effect he had secured; but, in this, his self-confidence and the seeming passivity of the girl led him far astray. In truth, May felt assured that Masters lied, and the failure of personal contact to yield any emotion save an actual dissatisfaction set the instinctive disbelief in bold relief. When, soon afterward, they separated, May was secretly aware that her first romance had come to an inglorious end.