hat he must be very near the spot, but neither the expected
sound nor object greeted him, and, while he stopped and held his
breath to listen, the silence was profound and death-like. He was
opening his lips to call the girl's name, when he fancied he saw
something move slightly, and simultaneously a human voice smote the
oppressive stillness. She was very near him, and he heard her saying
to herself, with mournful emphasis,--

"Have I brought Joy, and slain her at his feet?
Have I brought Peace, for his cold kiss to kill?
Have I brought youth, crowned with wild-flowers sweet,
With sandals dewy from a morning hill,
For his gray, solemn eyes, to fright and chill?
Have I brought Scorn the pale, and Hope the fleet,
And First Love, in her lily winding-sheet,--
And is he pitiless still?"

Dr. Grey knew now that she was not crying. Her hard, ringing, bitter
tone, forbade all thought of sobs or tears; but his heart ached as he
listened, and surmised the application she was making of the
melancholy lines.

Unwilling that she should know he had overheard her, he waited a
moment, then raised his voice and shouted,--

"Salome! Salome! Where are you?"

There was no answer, and, fearing that she might elude him, he
stretched out his arms, and advanced to the spot, which he felt
assured was only a few yards distant.

She had risen, and, standing in the gloom of the coming night,
deepened by the interlacing boughs above her, she felt Dr. Grey's hand
on her dress, then on her head, where the moisture hung heavily in her
thick hair.

"Salome, why do you not answer me?"

Shame kept her silent.

He passed his hand over her hot face, then groped for her fingers,
which he grasped firmly in his.

"Come home with your best friend."

He knew that she was in no mood to submit to reprimand, to appreciate
argument, or even to listen to entreaty, and that he might as
profitably undertake to knead pig-iron as expostulate with her at this
juncture.

For a mile they walked on without uttering a word; then he felt the
fingers relax, twitch, and twine closely around his own.

"Dr. Grey, where is Muriel? Where is your buggy?"

"Both are at home, where others should have been, long ago."

"You walked back to meet me?"

"I did."

"How did you find me, in the dark?"

"I heard your voice."

"But not the words?"

"Why? Are you ashamed for me to hear what any strolling stranger, any
unscrupulous vagabond,