ing had made the least real impression upon her except Kensington
Gardens, and they to the end of her life would probably be only a
reminder of pain.

But her first view of the sea!

That was something revivifying!

Her memory of the one occasion when she had gone to Lowestoft with her
mother was too dim to be anything of a reality, and, when they got to
Newhaven, the Professor and Priscilla and she, with a brisk summer wind
blowing the green-blue water into crested wavelets, the first cry of
life and joy escaped her and gladdened Cheiron's heart.

How wonderful the voyage was! She took in every smallest change in the
tones of the sky--she watched the waves from the forepart of the bridge,
and some new essence of life and the certainty that her night forces
would never desert her made themselves felt and cheered her.

Of John Derringham she thought constantly. He was not buried in that
outer circle of oblivion from which the thoughts unconsciously shy--as
we bury our dead, their going so shrouded in pain that we long to blot
out the memory of them. John Derringham was always with her. She prayed
for his welfare with the fervor and purity of her sweet soul. He was her
spirit lover still. He could never really belong to any other woman, she
knew. And as the days went by a fresh beauty grew in her pale face. The
night sky itself seemed to be melted in her true eyes with the essence
of all its stars.

Cheiron often wondered at her. There was never a word or allusion to the
past. She was extremely quiet, and sometimes the droop of her graceful
head and the sad curves of her tender lips would make the kind old
cynic's heart ache. But she was always cheerful, taking unfeigned
interest in the country and the people, delighting in the simple faith
of the peasants and the glory of some of the old cathedrals.

And Aphrodite traveled everywhere with them. A special case had been
made for her--and Halcyone often took her out to keep them company in
the late evenings or when a rare rain storm kept them indoors.

Mr. Carlyon had not written to John Derringham since his engagement had
been announced. He wished all connection with his former pupil to be
broken off. He had no mercy for his action, he could not even use his
customary lenient common sense towards the failings of mankind.

John Derringham had made his peerless one suffer--and his name was
anathema. As far as Cheiron was concerned he was wiped off the list of
being