The Day of the Beast

“Who is it?” asked Mel. Her back was turned. She did not look round, though she heard voices.

“It doesn't matter,” said Lane, calmly.

He would have given the world to spare Mel the ordeal before her, but that was impossible. He put more power into his stroke and the canoe shot ahead.

It passed under the bridge, not twenty feet from Margaret Swann. There was a strange, eager, wondering look in Margaret's clear eyes as she recognized Mel. Then she seemed to be swallowed up by the green willows.

“That was damned annoying,” muttered Lane to himself. He could have met them all face to face without being affected, but he realized how painful this meeting must be to Mel. These were Mel's old friends. He had caught Margaret's glance. Old memories came surging back. His gaze returned to Mel. Her face was grave and sad; her eyes had darkened, and there was a shadow in them. His glance sought the green-lined channel ahead. The canoe cut the placid water, turned the last bend, and glided into the swift river. Soon Lane saw the little cottage shining white in the light of the setting sun.

One afternoon, as Lane was returning from the woods, he met a car coming out of the grassy road that led down to his cottage. As he was about to step aside, a gay voice hailed him. He waited. The car came on. It contained Holt Dalrymple and Bessy Bell.

“Say, don't you dodge us,” called Holt.

“Daren Lane!” screamed Bessy.

Then the car halted, and with two strides Lane found himself face to face with the young friends he had not seen for months. Holt appeared a man now. And Bessy—no longer with bobbed hair—older, taller, changed incalculably, struck him as having fulfilled her girlish promise of character and beauty. “Well, it's good to see you youngsters', said Lane, as he shook hands with them.

Holt seemed trying to hide emotion. But Bessy, after that first scream, sat staring at Lane with a growing comprehending light in her purple eyes.

Suddenly she burst out. “Daren—you'rewell !... Oh, how glad I am! Holt, just look at him.”

“I'm looking, Bess. And if he's really Daren Lane, I'll eat him,” responded Holt.

“This is all I needed to make to-day the happiest day of my life,” said Bessy, with serious sweetness.

“This? Do you mean meeting me? I'm greatly flattered, Bessy,” said Lane, with a smile.

Then both a blush and a glow made her radiant.

“Daren, I'm sixteen to-day. Holt and I are—we're engaged I told mother, and expected a row. She was really pleased.... And then seeing you well again. Why, Daren, you've actually got color. Then Holt has been given a splendid business opportunity.... And—Oh! it's all too good to be true.”

“Well, of all things!” cried Lane, when he had a chance to speak. “You two engaged! I—I could never tell you how glad I am.” Lane felt that he could have hugged them both. “I congratulate you with all my heart. Now Holt— Bessy, make a go of it. You're the luckiest kids in the world.”

“Daren, we've both had our fling and we've both been hurt,” said Bessy, seriously. “And you betwe know how lucky we are—and what we owe Daren Lane for our happiness to- day.”

“Bessy, that means a great deal to me,” replied Lane, earnestly. “I know you'll be happy. You have everything to live for. Just be true to yourself.”

So the moment of feeling passed.

“We went down to your place,” said Holt, “and stayed a while waiting for you.”

“Daren, I think Mel is lovely. May I not come often to see you both?” added Bessy.

“You know how pleased we'll be.... Bessy, do you ever see my sister Lorna?” asked Lane, hesitantly.

“Yes, I see her now and then. Only the other day I met her in a store. Daren, she's getting some sense. She has a better position now. And she said she was not going with any fellow but Harry.”

“And my mother?” Lane went on.

“She is quite well, Lorna said. And they are getting along well now. Lorna hinted that a relative—an uncle, I think, was helping them.”

Lane was silent a moment, too stirred to trust his voice. Presently he said: “Bessy, your birthday has brought happiness to some one besides yourself.”

He bade them good-bye and strode on down the hill toward the cottage. How strangely meetings changed the future! Holt's pride of possession in Bessy brought poignantly back to Lane his own hidden love for Mel. And Bessy's rapture of amaze at his improvement in health put Lane face to face with a possibility he had dreamed of but had never believed in—that he might live.

That night was for Lane a sleepless one. He seemed to have traveled in a dreamy circle, and was now returning to memories and pangs from which he had long been free.

Next morning, without any hint to Mel of his intentions, he left the cottage and made his way into town. Almost he felt as he had upon his return from France. He dropped in to see his mother and was happy to find her condition of mind and health improved. She was overjoyed to see Lane. Her surprise was pitiful. She told him she was sure that he had recovered.

It was this matter of his physical condition that had brought Lane into Middleville. For many months he had resigned himself to death. And now he could not deny even his morbid fancy that he felt stronger than at any time since he left France. He had worked hard to try to get well, but he had never, in his heart, believed that possible.

Lane called upon Doctor Bronson and asked to be thoroughly examined. The doctor manifestly found the