t a beautiful butterfly!--there, on that trumpet
flower! I think it is a Tawny Emperor."

"I see," said the young man. "Excuse me a moment while I frighten him
away." He gravely shook the trumpet vine, and the light splendour spread
its wings and sailed to a securer realm. "Now that the Emperor is gone
perhaps you will pay attention. Am _I_ merely an agreeable
acquaintance?"

"Oh--agreeable!" murmured Miss Dandridge.

"I am not trying to be agreeable. I am looking for the truth. Am I,
then, merely an acquaintance?"

Unity sighed. "Why not say 'friend'?"

"'Friend' is good as far as it goes. It does not go far enough."

"Yes, it does," said Miss Dandridge. "It goes further than all your less
sober travellers.

"Love me little, love me long.

"You want such violent things!"

"I want you. Is it, then, only a poor, pale friendship?"

"Why call it poor and pale? Friendship can be rosy-cheeked as well
as--as other things. Look how the grass is burned--and all the locusts
are singing of the heat!"

"It is beneath you to trifle so. If this is all, it is poor and pale,
and the sooner it dies, the better! Unity, I'm waiting for your _coup de
grace_."

"I'm tired," said Unity. "You hurt me, and I'm tired."

"I never heard you say that before. Look at me! the tears are in your
eyes."

"Everybody cries over Eloisa to Abelard.

"O death all-eloquent! you only prove
What dust we dote on, when't is man we love!

"Where are you going?"

"Home first, then--I don't know where. Good-bye."

"Don't go."

"I'm afraid the book in the lilac bush is spoiled. If you'll allow me,
I'll send you another copy."

"Please don't go."

"The tears are on your cheeks. It is a moving poem.

"Oh, may we never love as those have loved!

"This is the third and last good-bye. Good-bye."

The younger Cary turned and resolutely walked away. Miss Dandridge rose
and followed him. He did not turn his head, and the thick turf could not
echo her light footfall. He walked firmly, with the port of a man who
hears a distant drum beat to action. Miss Dandridge admired the attitude
through her tears. He walked rapidly and the sweep of greensward between
them widened. It was no great distance to the driveway and the white
pillars of the house. Uncle Dick and Uncle Edward, Deb, the servants,
any one, might be looking out of the windows. For one moment Unity
stopped short as Atalanta when she saw the golden apple, then she