"Yes, dear."

"Does that cause you any real apprehension?" she laughed.

"I am thinking of you."

"Think of me, then," she said gaily, "and know that I am happy and

content. The world is turning into such a wonderful friend to me; fate

is becoming so gentle and so kind. Happiness may brand me; nothing

else can leave a mark. So be at ease concerning me. All shall go well

with me, only when with you, my darling, all goes well."

He smiled in sympathy with her gaiety of heart, but the slight shadow

returned to his face again. Watching it she said: "All things shall come to us, Clive."

"All things," he said, gravely,--"except fulfilment."

"That, too," she murmured.

"No, Athalie."

"Yes," she said under her breath.

He only lifted her ringless hand to his lips in hopeless silence; but

she looked up at the cloudless sky and out over sunlit harvest fields

and where grain and fruit were ripening, and she smiled, closing her

white hand and pressing it gently against his lips.

Connor met them at the door and shouldered Clive's trunk and other

luggage; then Athalie slipped her arm through his and took him into

the autumn glow of her garden.

"Miracle after miracle, Clive--from the enchantment of July roses to

the splendour of dahlia, calendula, and gladioluses. Such a

wonder-house no man ever before gave to any woman.... There is not one

stalk or leaf or blossom or blade of grass that is not my intimate

and tender friend, my confidant, my dear preceptor, my companion

beloved and adored.

[Illustration: "And then her hands were in his and she was looking

into his beloved eyes once more."] "Do you notice that the grapes on the trellis are turning dark? And

the peaches are becoming so big and heavy and rosy. They will be ripe

before very long."

"You must have a greenhouse," he said.

"We must," she admitted demurely.

He turned toward her with much of his old gaiety, laughing: "Do you

know," he said, "I believe you are pretending to be in love with me!"

"That's all it is, Clive, just pretence, and the natural depravity of

a flirt. When I go back to town I'll forget you ever existed--unless

you go with me."

"I'm wondering," he said, "what we had better do in town."

"I'm not wondering; I know."




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