"Some people were here a little while ago, looking at the flowers. I
think they must have lived here many, many years ago; perhaps when
this old house was new."
"Could you not ask them who they were?"
"No, dear."
"Why?"
"If they were what you would call 'alive' I could not intrude upon
them, could I? The laws of reticence, the respect for privacy, remain
the same. I am conscious of no more impertinent curiosity concerning
them than I am concerning any passer in the city streets."
"Have they gone?"
"Yes. But all the evening I have been hearing children at play just
beyond the garden wall.... And, when I was a child, somebody killed a
little dog down by the causeway. He is here in the garden, now,
trotting gaily about the lawn--such a happy little dog!--and Hafiz has
folded his forepaws under his ruff and has settled down to watch him.
Don't you see how Hafiz watches, how his head turns following every
movement of the little visitor?"
He nodded; then: "Do you still hear the children outside the wall?"
She sat listening, the smile brooding in her eyes.
"Can you still hear them?" he repeated, wistfully.
"Yes, dear."
"What are they saying?"
"I can't make out. They are having a happy time somewhere on the outer
lawns."
"How many are there?"
"Oh, I don't know. Their voices make a sweet, confused sound like bird
music before dawn. I couldn't even guess how many children are playing
there."
"Are any among them those children you once saw here?--the children
who pleaded with you--"
She did not answer. He tightened his arm around her waist, drawing her
nearer; and she laid her cheek against his shoulder.
"Yes," she said, "they are there."
"You know their voices?"
"Yes, dearest."
"Will they come again into the garden?"
Her face flushed deeply: "Not unless we call them."
"Call them," he said. And, after a silence: "Dearest, will you not
call them to us?"
"Oh, Clive! I have been calling. Now it remains with you."
"I did not hear you call them."
"They heard."
"Will they come?"
"I--think so."
"When?"
"Very soon--if you truly desire them," she whispered against his
shoulder.
* * * * *
Somewhere within the house the hour struck. After a long while they
rose, moving slowly, her head still lying on his shoulder. Hafiz
watched them until the door closed, then settled down again to gaze on
things invisible to men.