r and broader
upon an arable surface. Again, some bitterness from the world seemed to
blast the young growths--and the delicate fragrance was far-blown. It
was these reactions, and his sensitiveness to the beauty of the
romance, which put off from day to day the time for words.

Two or three days before, she had returned from a week-end in the
country, and more than ever her presence was an inspiration. She must
have been keeping holy vigils. There was animation in her hands, a note
of singing in her laughter--the dawn of June in her eyes, the fresh
loveliness of the country in her whole presence. She showed him that
Monday morning, how good it was to see him again--after forty-eight
hours. And he had gone about his work with renewed spirit--the silent
siege. The strength of youth was in his attentions, but the fineness of
maturity, as well. He cultured her heart as only a great lover could;
but being the lover, he was slow to see the blooms that answered.

Only of words, he would have none of them yet. Deeply he understood
that she had been terribly hurt--long ago or recently, he could not
tell. Could the story she had suggested of the Grey One's lover be
anything like her own?... Words--he was afraid. Words often break the
sensitive new-forming tissues over old wounds of the heart. His was a
life-work, to heal and expand her heart to hold the great happiness....

Beth felt herself giving away secrets, when Bedient looked at her early
this afternoon. He glanced as usual into her face--but then, a second
time. She followed his eyes an instant later to the place on the
mantel, where the small picture of the Other had rested for just one
day. He started to ask a question, but she took the little book, and
thanking him, held the talk to it.

Bedient grappled with an obstacle he could not master. In the silences
of that day, something different from anything he had met before,
closed in; a new order of atmosphere that altered the very tone and
color of things. It seemed not in the studio alone, but in the world.
Bedient fell into depths of thinking before it. A sudden turn for the
worst in a well-established convalescence, held something of the same
startling confrontation. There was no response to his willing it away.
It was fateful, encompassing.

Beth moved about the room, not ready at once to touch the picture. She
carried the little book in her hand.... Strong but mild winds were
blowing. Sudden gusts fell upon th