l,
till, on the very last morning, as they were watching the sea, he said
with his queer smile:

"It almost makes one believe her theory, that the old gods are not dead.
Do you ever see them, Babs; or are you, like me, obtuse?"

Certainly about those lithe invasions of the sea-nymph waves, with ashy,
streaming hair, flinging themselves into the arms of the land, there was
the old pagan rapture, an inexhaustible delight, a passionate soft
acceptance of eternal fate, a wonderful acquiescence in the untiring
mystery of life.

But Barbara, ever disconcerted by that tone in his voice, and by this
quick dive into the waters of unaccustomed thought, failed to find an
answer.

Miltoun went on:

"She says, too, we can hear Apollo singing. Shall we try."

But all that came was the sigh of the sea, and of the wind in the
tamarisk.

"No," muttered Miltoun at last, "she alone can hear it."

And Barbara saw, once more on his face that look, neither sad nor
impatient, but as of one uninhabited and waiting.

She left Sea House next day to rejoin her mother, who, having been to
Cowes, and to the Duchess of Gloucester's, was back in Town waiting for
Parliament to rise, before going off to Scotland. And that same
afternoon the girl made her way to Mrs. Noel's flat. In paying this
visit she was moved not so much by compassion, as by uneasiness, and a
strange curiosity. Now that Miltoun was well again, she was seriously
disturbed in mind. Had she made a mistake in summoning Mrs. Noel to
nurse him?

When she went into the little drawing-room Audrey was sitting in the
deep-cushioned window-seat with a book on her knee; and by the fact that
it was open at the index, Barbara judged that she had not been reading
too attentively. She showed no signs of agitation at the sight of her
visitor, nor any eagerness to hear news of Miltoun. But the girl had not
been five minutes in the room before the thought came to her: "Why! She
has the same look as Eustace!" She, too, was like an empty tenement;
without impatience, discontent, or grief--waiting! Barbara had scarcely
realized this with a curious sense of discomposure, when Courtier was
announced. Whether there was in this an absolute coincidence or just
that amount of calculation which might follow on his part from receipt of
a note written from Sea House--saying that Miltoun was well again, that
she was coming up and meant to go and thank Mrs. Noel--was not clear, nor
were he