se?" he demanded abruptly.

"The sun was high," she answered, in a slow, even voice, with no sign of
surprise at finding herself no longer alone. "I have been sitting here for
a long time. I thought that Hugon might be coming this afternoon.... There
is no use in hiding, but I thought if I stole down here he might not find
me very soon."

Her voice died away, and she looked again at the water. The storekeeper
sat down upon the bank, between the hillock and the fiery vine, and his
keen eyes watched her closely. "The river," she said at last,--I like to
watch it. There was a time when I loved the woods, but now I see that they
are ugly. Now, when I can steal away, I come to the river always. I watch
it and watch it, and think.... All that you give it is taken so surely,
and hurried away, and buried out of sight forever. A little while ago I
pulled a spray of farewell summer, and went down there where the bank
shelves and gave it to the river. It was gone in a moment for all that the
stream seems so stealthy and slow."

"The stream comes from afar," said the Highlander. "In the west, beneath
the sun, it may be a torrent flashing through the mountains."

"The mountains!" cried Audrey. "Ah, they are uglier than the woods,--black
and terrible! Once I loved them, too, but that was long ago." She put her
chin upon her hand, and again studied the river. "Long ago," she said,
beneath her breath.

There was a silence; then, "Mr. Haward is at Fair View again," announced
the storekeeper.

The girl's face twitched.

"He has been nigh to death," went on her informant. "There were days when
I looked for no morrow for him; one night when I held above his lips a
mirror, and hardly thought to see the breath-stain."

Audrey laughed. "He can fool even Death, can he not?" The laugh was light
and mocking, a tinkling, elvish sound which the Highlander frowned to
hear. A book, worn and dog-eared, lay near her on the grass. He took it up
and turned the leaves; then put it by, and glanced uneasily at the
slender, brown-clad form seated upon the fairy mound.

"That is strange reading," he said.

Audrey looked at the book listlessly. "The schoolmaster gave it to me. It
tells of things as they are, all stripped of make-believe, and shows how
men love only themselves, and how ugly and mean is the world when we look
at it aright. The schoolmaster says that to look at it aright you must
not dream; you must stay awake,"--she drew her hand acr