ould be so
gracious and sweet--he said all sorts of nice things and walked by her
side as they came down from the turret summer-house. She looked the
picture of a fresh June rose as she carried her basket full of August
flowers--phloxes and penstemons and a great bunch of late sweet peas.
And Michael felt almost that he was staggering a little as he followed
with Madame Imogen, the shock had been so great.

Was it really Sabine--his wife!--or could she have a double in the
world. Maddening uncertainty was his portion. He must know, he must be
certain--and if she were his wife--what then? What did it mean? He
could not claim her--she was engaged to Henry, his friend--to whom he
had given his word of honor that he would help as much as he could. It
was no wonder that he answered Madame Imogen's prattle, crisp and
American and amusing though it was, quite at random--his whole attention
being upon the pair in front.

Sabine also found that she was not hearing a word Henry said, but that
the wildest excitement which she had ever known was coursing through her
blood. At last she did catch that he was telling her that never had she
been more beautiful or had brighter eyes.

"This place must suit you even better than Carlsbad," he said.

She answered laughingly and led the way toward the gate and so across
the causeway and on into her own sitting-room where they would find tea.
She supposed afterwards that she had talked sensibly, but never had any
recollection of what she had said.

The room was looking singularly beautiful with the wonderful coloring of
the splendid curtains, and the tapestry and dark wood. And it was a
homely place, too, with quantities of book-cases and comfortable chairs
for all its vast size. Michael thought there was a faint look of his own
room at Arranstoun--and he joined the two who had advanced to one of the
huge embrasures of the windows where the tea table was laid--here there
were velvet-covered window seats where one could lounge and gaze out at
the sea.

"What an exquisite place!" he exclaimed. "It reminds me of Arranstoun,
does it not you, Henry?--although that is not near the sea."

The color deepened in Sabine's cheeks--had she unconsciously made it
resemble that place? She did not know, and the suggestion struck her
with surprise.

Michael had recognized her of course, she saw that, but he was a
gentleman and intended to play the game. That was an immense relief. She
could allow he