d never be fit to be his wife, if at the first test her courage
failed! She set her teeth; and suddenly she felt a kind of exultation,
as if she too were entering into life, were knowing something within
herself that she had never known before. Her fingers hurt, and the pain
even gave pleasure; her cheeks were burning; her breath came fast. They
could not stop her now! This feverish task in darkness was her baptism
into life. She finished; and rolling the pictures very carefully, tied
them with cord. She had done something for him! Nobody could take that
from her! She had a part of him! This night had made him hers! They
might do their worst! She lay down on his mattress and soon fell
asleep....

She was awakened by Scruff's tongue against her face. Greta was standing
by her side.

"Wake up, Chris! The gate is open!"

In the cold early light the child seemed to glow with warmth and colour;
her eyes were dancing.

"I am not afraid now; Scruff and I sat up all night, to catch the
morning--I--think it was fun; and O Chris!" she ended with a rueful gleam
in her eyes, "I told it."

Christian hugged her.

"Come--quick! There is nobody about. Are those the pictures?"

Each supporting an end, the girls carried the bundle downstairs, and set
out with their corpse-like burden along the wall-path between the river
and the vines.

XIX

Hidden by the shade of rose-bushes Greta lay stretched at length, cheek
on arm, sleeping the sleep of the unrighteous. Through the flowers the
sun flicked her parted lips with kisses, and spilled the withered petals
on her. In a denser islet of shade, Scruff lay snapping at a fly. His
head lolled drowsily in the middle of a snap, and snapped in the middle
of a loll.

At three o'clock Miss Naylor too came out, carrying a basket and pair of
scissors. Lifting her skirts to avoid the lakes of water left by the
garden hose, she stopped in front of a rose-bush, and began to snip off
the shrivelled flowers. The little lady's silvered head and thin, brown
face sustained the shower of sunlight unprotected, and had a gentle
dignity in their freedom.

Presently, as the scissors flittered in and out of the leaves, she, began
talking to herself.

"If girls were more like what they used to be, this would not have
happened. Perhaps we don't understand; it's very easy to forget."
Burying her nose and lips in a rose, she sniffed. "Poor dear girl! It's
such a pity his fath