Audrey

"She is my friend," said Haward slowly, "and her mind is as fair as her

face. I will tell her your story."

The gilded streak upon the earth beneath the beech had crept away, but

over the ferns and weeds and flowering bushes between the slight trees

without the ring the sunshine gloated. The blue of the sky was wonderful,

and in the silence Haward and Audrey heard the wind whisper in the

treetops. A dove moaned, and a hare ran past.

"It was I who brought you from the mountains and placed you here," said

Haward at last. "I thought it for the best, and that when I sailed away I

left you to a safe and happy life. It seems that I was mistaken. But now

that I am at home again, child, I wish you to look upon me, who am so much

your elder, as your guardian and protector still. If there is anything

which you lack, if you are misused, are in need of help, why, think that

your troubles are the Indians again, little maid, and turn to me once more

for help!"

Having spoken honestly and well and very unwisely, he looked at his watch

and said that it was late. When he rose to his feet Audrey did not move,

and when he looked down upon her he saw that her eyes, that had been wet,

were overflowing. He put out his hand, and she took it and touched it with

her lips; then, because he said that he had not meant to set her crying,

she smiled, and with her own hand dashed away the tears.

"When I ride this way I shall always stop at the minister's house," said

Haward, "when, if there is aught which you need or wish, you must tell me

of it. Think of me as your friend, child."

He laid his hand lightly and caressingly upon her head. The ruffles at his

wrist, soft, fine, and perfumed, brushed her forehead and her eyes. "The

path through your labyrinth to its beechen heart was hard to find," he

continued, "but I can easily retrace it. No, trouble not yourself, child.

Stay for a time where you are. I wish to speak to the minister alone."

His hand was lifted. Audrey felt rather than saw him go. Only a few feet,

and the dogwood stars, the purple mist of the Judas-tree, the white

fragrance of a wild cherry, came like a painted arras between them. For a

time she could hear the movement of the branches as he put them aside; but

presently this too ceased, and the place was left to her and to all the

life that called it home.