He answered, smilingly, that he might be induced to permit it.

Hafiz appeared, inquisitive, urbane, waving his snowy tail; but he was
shy of further demonstrations toward the man who was seated beside his
beloved mistress, and he pretended that he saw something in the
obscurity of the flowering thickets, and stalked it with every symptom
of sincerity.

"That cat must be about six years old," said Clive, watching him.

"He plays like a kitten, still."

"Do you remember how he used to pat your thread with his paws when you
were sewing."

"I remember," she said, smiling.

A little later Hafiz regained confidence in Clive and came up to rub
against his legs and permit caresses.

"Such a united family," remarked Athalie, amused by the mutual
demonstrations.

"How is Henry?" he asked.

"Fatter and slower than ever, dear. He suits my unenterprising
disposition to perfection. Now and then he condescends to be harnessed
and to carry me about the landscape. But mostly he drags the cruel
burden of Connor's lawn-mower. Do you think the place looks well
kept?"

"I knew you wanted to be flattered," he laughed.

"I do. Flatter me please."

"It's one of the best things I do, Athalie! For example--the lawn, the
cat, and the girl are all beautifully groomed; the credit is yours;
and you're a celestial dream too exquisite to be real."

"I am becoming real--as real as you are," she said with a faint smile.

"Yes," he admitted, "you and I are the only real things in the world
after all. The rest--woven scenes that come and go moving across a
loom."

She quoted:

"Sun and Moon illume the Room
Where the ceiling is the sky:
Night and day the Weavers ply
Colour, shadow, hue, and dye,
Where the rushing shuttles fly,
Weaving dreams across the Loom,
Picturing a common doom!

"How, Beloved, can _we_ die--
We Immortals, Thou and I?"

He smiled: "Death seems very far away," he said.

"Nothing dies.... If only this world could understand.... Did I tell
you that mother has been with me often while you were away?"

"No."

"It was wonderfully sweet to see her in the room. One night I fell
asleep across her knees."

"Does she ever speak to you, Athalie?"

"Yes, sometimes we talk."

"At night?"

"By day, too.... I was sitting in the living-room the other morning,
and she came up behind me and took both my hands. We talked, I lying
back in the rocking chair and looking up