te cry, she had broken free; but, even so, he had caught
and swept her up in his arms, and held her close against his breast. And
now, feeling the hopelessness of further struggle, she lay passive,
while her eyes flamed up into his, and his eyes looked down into hers.
Her long, thick hair had come loose, and now with a sudden, quick
gesture, she drew it across her face, veiling it from him; wherefore, he
stooped his head above those lustrous tresses.

"Anthea!" he murmured, and the masterful voice was strangely hesitating,
and the masterful arms about her were wonderfully gentle, "Anthea--do
you--love me?" Lower he bent, and lower, until his lips touched her
hair, until beneath that fragrant veil, his mouth sought, and found,
hers, and, in that breathless moment, he felt them quiver responsive to
his caress. And then, he had set her down, she was free, and he was
looking at her with a new-found radiance in his eyes.

"Anthea!" he said, wonderingly, "why then--you do--?" But, as he spoke,
she hid her face in her hands.

"Anthea!" he repeated.

"Oh!" she whispered, "I--hate you!--despise you! Oh! you shall be paid
back,--every penny,--every farthing, and--very soon! Next week--I marry
Mr. Cassilis!"

And so, she turned, and fled away, and left him standing there amid the
roses.

CHAPTER XXVIII

_Which tells how Bellew left Dapplemere in the dawn_

Far in the East a grey streak marked the advent of another day, and upon
all things was a solemn hush, a great, and awful stillness that was like
the stillness of Death. The Earth was a place of gloom, and mist, where
spectral shadows writhed, and twisted, and flitted under a frowning
heaven, and out of the gloom there came a breath, sharp, and damp, and
exceeding chill.

Therefore, as Bellew gazed down from the frowning Heaven to the gloom of
Earth, below, with its ever-moving, misty shapes, he shivered
involuntarily.

In another hour it would be day, and with the day, the gates of Arcadia
would open for his departure, and he must go forth to become once more a
wanderer, going up and down, and to and fro in the world until his
course was run.

And yet it was worth having lived for, this one golden month, and in all
his wanderings needs must he carry with him the memory of her who had
taught him how deep and high, how wide and infinitely far-reaching that
thing called "Love" may really be.

And--Porges!--dear, quaint, Small Porges! where under heaven could he