us paths in the rose
gardens of the Archduke which soon had her pursuer gasping. She ran like
a boy, her dark hair falling about her ears, her draperies like Nike's
in the wind, her cheeks and eyes glowing, a pretty quarry indeed and
well worthy of so arduous a pursuit. For Renwick was not to be denied
and as the girl turned into the path which led to the thatched arbor, he
saw that she was breathing hard and the half-timorous laugh she threw
over her shoulder at him only spurred him on to new endeavor. He reached
the hedge as she disappeared, but his instinct was unerring and he
leaped through the swaying branches just in time to see the hem of her
skirt in the foliage on the other side and plunging through caught her
in his arms just as she sank, laughing breathlessly, to the spangled
shadows of the turf beyond.

"Marishka," he cried joyously, "did you mean it?"

But she wouldn't reply.

"You said that if I caught you----"

"The race--isn't always--to the swift--" she protested falteringly in
her pretty broken English.

"Your promise----"

"I made no promise."

"You'll make it now, the one I've waited for--for weeks--Marishka. Lift
up your head."

"No, no," she stammered.

"Then I----"

Renwick caught her in his arms again and turned her chin upward. Her
eyes were closed, but as their lips met her figure relaxed in his arms
and her head sank upon his shoulder.

"You run very fast, Herr Renwick," she whispered.

"You'll marry me, Marishka?"

"Who shall say?" she evaded.

"Your own lips. You've given them to me----"

"No, no. You have taken them----"

"It is all the same. They are mine." And Renwick took them again.

"Oh," she gasped, "you are so persistent--you English. You always wish
to have your own way."

He laughed happily.

"Would you have me otherwise? My way and your way, Marishka, they go
together. You wish it so, do you not?"

She was silent a while, the wild spirit in her slowly submissive, and at
last a smile moved her lips, her dark eyes were upturned to his and she
murmured a little proudly:

"It is a saying among the women of the House of Strahni that where the
lips are given the heart must follow."

"Your heart, Marishka! Mine, for many weeks. I know it. It is the lips
which have followed."

"What matters it now, beloved," she sighed, "since you have them both?"

Renwick smiled.

"Nothing. I only wondered why you've kept me dangling so long."

She was silent a moment