On the grey wall nasturtiums blazed; long stretches of brilliant

portulaca edged the herbaceous borders; clusters of auratum lilies

hung in the transparent shadow of Cydonia and Spirea; and the first

great dahlias faced her in maroon splendour from the spiked thickets

along the wall.

Once or twice she went to town on shopping bent, and on one of these

occasions impulse took her to the apartment furnished for her so long

ago by Clive.

She had not meant to go in, merely intended to pass the house, speak

to Michael, perhaps, if indeed, he still presided over door and

elevator.

And there he was, outside the door on a chair, smoking his clay pipe

and surveying the hot and silent street, where not even a sparrow

stirred.

"Michael," she said, smiling.

For a moment he did not know her, then: "God's glory!" he said

huskily, getting to his feet--"is it the sweet face o' Miss

Greensleeve or the angel in her come back f'r to bless us all?"

She gave him her hand, and he held it and looked at her, earnestly,

wistfully; then, with the flashing change of his race, the grin broke

out: "I'm that proud to be remembered by the likes o' you, Miss Athalie!

Are ye well, now?--an' happy? I thank God for that! I am

substantial--with my respects, ma'am, f'r the kind inquiry. And Hafiz?

Glory be, was there ever such a cat now? D'ye mind the day we tuk him

in a bashket?--an' the sufferin' yowls of the poor, dear creature.

Sure I'm that glad to hear he's well;--and manny mice to him, Miss

Athalie!"

Athalie laughed: "I suppose all your tenants are away in the country,"

she ventured.

"Barrin' wan or two, Miss. Ye know the young Master will suffer no one

in your own apartment."

"Is it still unoccupied, Michael?"

"Deed it is, Miss. Would ye care f'r to look around. There is nothing

changed there. I dust it meself."

"Yes," said the girl in a low voice, "I will look at it."

So Michael took her up in the lift, unlocked the door for her, and

then with the fine instinct of his race, forbore to follow her.

The shades in the square living-room were lowered; she raised one. And

the dim, golden past took shadowy shape again before her eyes.

[Illustration: "'Michael,' she said, smiling."] She moved slowly from one object to another, touching caressingly

where memory was tenderest. She looked at the furniture, the

pictures,--at the fireplace where in her mind's eye she could see

him bending to light the first fire that had ever blazed there.




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