the odours, Clive! How the scent of the August fields,
of the crisp salt hay, seemed to grip at my heart!--all the
subtle, evanescent odours characteristic of that part of Long
Island seemed to gather, blend, and exhale for my particular
benefit that afternoon.

"The old tavern appeared to me so much smaller, so much more
weather-beaten and shabby than my recollection of it. The
sign still hung there--'Hotel Greensleeve'--and as I walked
by it I looked up at the window of my mother's room. The
blinds were closed; nobody appeared to be around. I don't
know why, Clive, but it seemed to me that I must go in for a
moment and take one more look at my mother's room.... I am
glad I did. There was nobody to stop me. I went up the stairs
on tiptoe and opened her door, and looked in. _She was there,
sewing._

"I went in very softly and sat down on the carpet by her
chair.... It was the happiest moment I have known since she
died.

"And when she was no longer there I rose and crept down the
stairs and through the hallway to the bar; and peeped in. An
old man sat there asleep by the empty stove. And after a
moment I decided it was Mr. Ledlie. But he has grown
old--old!--and I let him sleep on in the sunshine without
disturbing him.

"It was the same stove where you and I sat and nibbled peach
turnovers so many years ago. I wanted to see it again.

* * * * *

"So I went back to New York in the late golden afternoon
feeling very peaceful and dreamy,--and a trifle tired. And
found Hafiz stretched on the lounge; and stretched myself out
beside him, taking the drowsy, purring, spoiled thing into my
arms. And went to sleep to dream of you who gave me Hafiz, my
dear and beloved friend.

* * * * *

"Write me when you can; as often as you desire. Always your
letters are welcome messengers.
"ATHALIE."

CHAPTER XIV

In her letters Athalie never mentioned Captain Dane; not because she
had anything to conceal regarding him or herself; but she seemed to be
aware that any mention of that friendship might not evoke a
sympathetic response from Clive.

So, in her last letter, as in the others, she had not spoken of
Captain Dane. Yet, now, he was the only man with whom she ever went
anywhere and whom she received at her