indows, and far beyond
Central Park the approaching sunset promised to be beautiful. The
table was covered with flowers, and though he had often seen that
variety, he had never before noticed the marvellous combinations of
colours, while the room was filled with a thousand delicious perfumes.
The thrush hanging in the window sang divinely, and in a silver frame
he saw a likeness of himself.

"I have always loved this room," he thought, "but it seems to me now
like heaven."

He sat down in an arm-chair from force of habit, to await his fiancee.

"Oh, for a walk with Sylvia by twilight!" his thoughts ran on, "for she
need not be at home again till after seven."

Presently he heard the soft rustle of her dress, and rose to meet her.
Though she looked in his direction, she did not seem to see him, and
walked past him to the window. She was the picture of loveliness
silhouetted against the sky. He went towards her, and gazed into her
deep-sea eyes, which had a far-away expression. She turned, went
gracefully to the mantelpiece, and took a photograph of herself from
behind the clock. On its back Ayrault had scrawled a boyish verse
composed by himself, which ran:

"My divine, most ideal Sylvia,
O vision, with eyes so blue,
'Tis in the highest degree consequential,
To my existence in fact essential,
That I should be loved by you."

As she read and reread those lines, with his whole soul he yearned to
have her look at him. He watched the colour come and go in her clear,
bright complexion, and was rejoiced to see in her the personification
of activity and health. Beneath his own effusion on the photograph he
saw something written in pencil, in the hand he knew so well:

"Did you but know how I love you,
No more silly things would you ask.
With my whole heart and soul I adore you--
Idiot! goose! bombast!"

And as she glanced at it, these thoughts crossed her mind: "I shall
never call you such names again. How much I shall have to tell you!
It is provoking that you stay away so long."

He came still nearer--so near, in fact, that he could hear the beating
of her heart--but she still seemed entirely unconscious of his
presence. Losing his reserve and self-control, he impulsively grasped
at her hands, then fell on his knees, and then, dumfounded, struggled
to his feet. Her hands seemed to slip through his; he was