ly for any
signs in his companion of a lingering loyalty of belief in the
traditions thereabout, a loyalty which had something in it of a sacred
duty to him in those days. Those were the days when he still turned to
the east a-Sundays, and went out in the early morning, with Herrick
under his arm, to gather May-dew, with a great uplifting of the spirit,
in what indeed was a very real act of worship.

But to my story! As bedtime approached Narcissus could not but be aware
of a growing uneasiness in the manner of the young woman. At last it was
explained. With blushing effort she stammered out the question: Would he
object to share his bed with--the old man? 'Of course not,' answered N.
at once, as though he had all the time intended doing that very thing,
and indeed, thought it the most delightful arrangement in the world.

So up to bed go the oddly consorted pair. But the delicious climax was
yet to come. On entering the room, Narcissus found that there were two
beds there! Why should we leave that other bed empty?--he had almost
asked; but a laughing wonder shot through him, and he stopped in time.

The old man was soon among the blankets, but Narcissus dallied over
undressing, looking at this and that country quaintness on the wall; and
then, while he was in a state of half man and half trousers, the voice
of the woman called from the foot of the stairs: Were they in bed yet?
'Surely, it cannot be! it is too irresistibly simple,' was his thought;
but he had immediately answered, 'In a moment,' as if such a question
was quite a matter of course.

In that space he had blown the candle out, and was by the old man's
side: and then, in the darkness, he heard the two women ascending the
stairs. Just outside his door, which he had left ajar, they seemed to
turn off into a small adjoining room, from whence came immediately the
soft delicious sounds of female disrobing. They were but factory women,
yet Narcissus thought of Saint Agnes and Madeline, we may be sure. And
then, at last--indeed, there was to be no mistake about it--the door was
softly pushed open, and two dim forms whispered across to the adjoining
bed, and, after a little preliminary rustle, settled down to a rather
fluttered breathing.

No one had spoken: not even a Goodnight; but Narcissus could hardly
refrain from ringing out a great mirthful cry, while his heart beat
strangely, and the darkness seemed to ripple, like sunlight in a cup,
with suppressed lau