by the beauty of it all.

He dimly realized that he was in a new world, which soothed and
appealed to his clouded nature as did the birds and the flowers. That
impulse, which he could neither express nor understand, which sent him
so constantly into the woods and solitudes, was gratified now. This was
as delightful as his favorite pastime of lying upon the grass and gazing
upward into the sunlit sky.

"Sho! It's pretty. I like it. I'm glad I come. I'll stay."

Amy had almost forgotten him.

"Yes, of course you'll stay till after supper. I'll--"

But a shadow fell across the threshold of the still open door, and
looking up she saw a stranger,--an old man of rather forbidding aspect,
whose glance passed swiftly from herself to the youth near the big
fireplace.

There followed an instant of mutual and frowning recognition between
these two; then Fayette disappeared through an inner doorway, while the
newcomer remained at the entrance, his hat in his hand, and an assumed
suavity in his manner.

Yet there was still a note of anger in the tone with which he
observed:--

"I have called upon business with Cuthbert Kaye. Your father, I presume.
Is he at home?"

"Not yet. He went to the city, yesterday, with my mother and brother. I
expect them back on the next train. Will you come in?"

"Yes, thank you. I'll wait."

He accepted the great chair Amy rolled toward him, and let his gaze
slowly sweep the cheerful apartment. Yet he knew it by heart, already,
and his face brightened as he saw how little it had been changed since
these many years. Apparently not one of its quaint and rich old
furnishings was missing, and the passage of time had but added to the
remembered charm of the place. Even the chair into which he sank had a
familiar feel, as if his back had long ago fitted to those simple,
comfortable lines. The antique candelabra--how often had he watched his
grandmother's fingers polishing them to brilliancy.

But the girl was new. The only modern thing, save the freshly gathered
leaves,--which also seemed but a memory of his childhood,--to remind him
of the present and the errand upon which he had come.

"She's Kaye, though, to the bone. Dark, crisp hair. Those short curls
are like a boy's. Her eyes are the Kaye eyes; and that toss of her head,
like her great-grandmother come to life again. All our women had it. Ah,
well. If things--hmm."

The visitor became absorbed in his thoughts, and his wandering gaze ca