in repose, seemed heavy, even massive, especially the bare arm upon
which his head was resting. His shirt was old, but spotlessly clean; his
socks were neatly darned in many places. He occupied nearly the whole of
the shelter, in fact one foot was protruding through the opening. In the
corner a looking-glass was hanging from a stick, and a few simple toilet
articles were spread upon the ground.

She bent more closely over him, holding her breath, although he showed
no signs of waking. Her senses were in confusion, and there was a mist
before her eyes. An unaccountable impulse was urging her on, driving
her, as it seemed, into incredible folly. Lower and lower she bent, till
her hot breath fell almost upon his cheek. Suddenly he stirred. She
started back. After all he did not open his eyes, but the moment was
gone. She moved backwards towards the opening. She was seized now with
sudden fright. She desired to escape. She was breathless with fear, the
fear of what she might not have escaped. Yet in the midst of it, with
hot trembling fingers she loosened the roses from her dress and dropped
them by his side. Then she fled into the semi-darkness.

The habits of a lifetime die hard. They are proof, as a rule, against
these fits of temporary madness.

Wilhelmina stepped languidly into her carriage, and commanded her
coachman's attention.

"Johnson," she said, "I found a poor man sleeping there. There is no
necessity for him to be disturbed. It is my wish that you do not mention
the occurrence to any one--to any one at all. You understand?"

The man touched his hat. He would have been dull-witted, indeed, if he
had not appreciated the note of finality in his mistress' tone. His
horses sprang forward, and a few minutes later turned into the dark
avenue which led to the house.

CHAPTER VIII

ROSES

Macheson woke with the daylight, stiff, a little tired, and haunted with
the consciousness of disturbing dreams. He sprang to his feet and
stretched himself. Then he saw the roses.

For a moment or two he stared at them incredulously. Then his thoughts
flashed backwards--where or how had he become possessed of them? A few
seconds were sufficient. Some one had been there in the night--most
likely a woman.

His cheeks burned at the thought. He stooped and took them hesitatingly,
reverently, into his hand. To him they represented part of the mystery
of life, the mystery of which he knew so little. Soft and fragrant,