bassa he went by rail inland to the end of the road, a distance of about five hundred miles. In the party were a score of native carriers and three other white men, a doctor, a botanist, and a geologist. That night they slept on the very border of the great forest. In the morning they lifted the curtain of verdure and disappeared into the mysterious realms beyond. From that day to this nothing has been heard from them." Gordon paused for a moment, then he said: "I was the boy who entered college, the explorer was my friend."
"And you think he is lost?" she asked anxiously.
"I fear so," he replied. "The jungle is full of dangers—fevers, wild animals, poisonous snakes, deadly insects and hideous hunger-craved savages. But of course there is always hope. Unless the worst is known, the best may be expected. Therefore I am organizing an expedition, and sail for Marseilles Saturday."
"You are going into the heart of the jungle?" she asked breathlessly.
"Yes," said he.
For a moment she was silent, then she held out her hands to him in lovely appeal.
"Oh, Gordon," she whispered, "I know my own mind at last. I love you and cannot bear to have you go."
He stopped the automobile, and softly, longingly out in the moon-kissed roadway he took her into his arms. He held her unprotesting, to his breast and for the next few moments time ceased to be.
"My love, my love," she breathed, and in those few words she expressed the sum of human happiness.
"If you had only told me this before," said he, "we might have had a longer period of happiness together. But as it is, all will be over Saturday."
"Unless," she began slowly.
"Unless what?" he cried eagerly.
"We are married Thursday," she suggested demurely.
"You mean—" He got no further. Words failed him, he was choked with a joyful gladness.
"I mean that I will go with you to Africa and wait at Mombassa until you return to me from the heart of the jungle."
If kisses had a market value, Marcia Loring could have paid her passage to the moon with the fortune she received within the next few moments.
On the following Thursday morning there was a wedding at the picturesque little country church at Beechwood. Only Marcia Loring's relatives and a few very intimate friends attended. I am not going to say how beautiful the bride looked, nor with what a wonderful light of happiness the groom's face shone. It has ever been my custom not to rave over other men's wives. It is true that I think, but wisely keep my thoughts to myself.
After the ceremony they all repaired to "The Oaks" and partook of a rather elaborate, though informal, luncheon.
It was evening before the happy couple found themselves at last alone. And probably it would have been even later than that, had they not stolen quietly out, unnoticed, to a little summer-house in the garden.
"I never knew I could be so happy!" she exclaimed, and then he took possession of her lips and made her happier.
"I have a confession to make," said he, at length.
"So soon?" she asked sweetly.
"Yes," he replied.
"Which is—?"
"That we are not going to Mombassa Saturday. Instead, we sail for Bermuda."
