eep, and
their souls were enveloped in a profound peace. When she slumbered
thus, their relief was intense; they seemed to share each other's
hearts the more.

"Have you not seen the garden yet?" asked Henri. "Just now it's full
of flowers."

"The asters are out, aren't they?" she questioned.

"Yes; the flower-bed looks magnificent. The clematises have wound
their way up into the elms. It is quite a nest of foliage."

There was another silence. Helene ceased sewing, and gave him a smile.
To their fancy it seemed as though they were strolling together along
high-banked paths, dim with shadows, amidst which fell a shower of
roses. As he hung over her he drank in the faint perfume of vervain
that arose from her dressing-gown. However, all at once a rustling of
the sheets disturbed them.

"She is wakening!" exclaimed Helene, as she started up.

Henri drew himself away, and simultaneously threw a glance towards the
bed. Jeanne had but a moment before gripped the pillow with her arms,
and, with her chin buried in it, had turned her face towards them. But
her eyelids were still shut, and judging by her slow and regular
breathing, she had again fallen asleep.

"Are you always sewing like this?" asked Henri, as he came nearer to
Helene.

"I cannot remain with idle hands," she answered. "It is mechanical
enough, but it regulates my thoughts. For hours I can think of the
same thing without wearying."

He said no more, but his eye dwelt on the needle as the stitching went
on almost in a melodious cadence; and it seemed to him as if the
thread were carrying off and binding something of their lives
together. For hours she could have sewn on, and for hours he could
have sat there, listening to the music of the needle, in which, like a
lulling refrain, re-echoed one word that never wearied them. It was
their wish to live their days like this in that quiet nook, to sit
side by side while the child was asleep, never stirring from their
places lest they might awaken her. How sweet was that quiescent
silence, in which they could listen to the pulsing of hearts, and bask
in the delight of a dream of everlasting love!

"How good you are!" were the words which came several times from his
lips, the joy her presence gave him only finding expression in that
one phrase.

Again she raised her head, never for a moment deeming it strange that
she should be so passionately worshipped. Henri's face was near her
own, and for a second th