itten by the charms of a certain Rhona Boswell, actually set
up a tent with the Gypsies; and now Mr. Henry Aylwin, of Raxton Hall
(who, by the bye, has never been seen in that neighbourhood since the
great landslip), is said to be following a good example by living in
Wales with a Gypsy wife, but whether the wedding took place at St.
George's, Hanover Square, or in simpler fashion in an encampment of
Little Egypt, we do not know.'

One day in the bungalow, when I was reading the copious marginalia
with which my father had furnished his own copy of _The Veiled
Queen_, I came upon a passage which so completely carried my mind
back to the night of our betrothal that I heard as plainly as I had
then heard Winnie's words at the door of her father's cottage:

'I should have to come in the winds and play around you in the woods.
I should have to peep over the clouds and watch you. I should have
to follow you about wherever you went. I should have to beset you
till you said: "Bother Winnie, I wish she'd keep in heaven!"'

The written words of my father that had worked this magical effect
upon me were these:

'But after months of these lonely wanderings in Graylingham Wood and
along the sands, not even the reshaping power of memory would suffice
to appease my longing; a new hope, wild as new, was breaking in upon
my soul, dim and yet golden, like the sun struggling through a
sea-fog. While wandering with me along the sands on the eve of that
dreadful day when I lost her, she had declared that even in heaven
she could not rest without me, nor did I understand how she could.
For by this time my instincts had fully taught me that there is a
kind of love so intense that no power in the universe--not death
itself--is strong enough to sever it from its object. I knew that
although true spiritual love, as thus understood, scarcely exists
among Englishmen, and even among Englishwomen is so rare that the
capacity for feeling it is a kind of genius, this genius was hers.
Sooner or later I said to myself, "She will and must manifest
herself!"'

I looked up from the book and saw both Sinfi and Pharaoh gazing at
me.

'Sinfi,' I said, 'what were Winnie's favourite places among the
hills? Where was she most in the habit of roaming when she stayed
with your people?'

'If I ain't told you that often enough it's a pity, brother,' she
said. 'What do _you_ think, Pharaoh?'

Pharaoh expressed his acquiescence in the satire by clappi