e light died out of the pink cloud, and Aurora's pleasure in her
garden gradually died out too, while the quality of irony in her many
blessings smote her. For what is the use of having everything money can
buy or the bounty of spring afford if you at the same time are troubled
with a toothache? All this, so grand in itself, was like a good gift
wasted, as long as she was in a state of quarrel with her friend. It was
full two weeks since their exchange of letters. Two weeks of absolute
silence. Could it be possible that she should never see or hear from
Gerald again?

No, it could not, she said. It was part of having faith in him to deny
the possibility of his remaining furious forever at her hateful letter.
No, she would not believe it of him; she thought better of him. She was
much mistaken if he could be so mean. She would be willing to bet--

There, in fact, he was, at this very moment, entering the carriage-gate.

After one mad throb of incredulous exultation, Aurora's thoughts and
feelings were for a long minute limited to an intense and immobile
watchfulness. He walked over the gravel with his eyes on the door under
the portico. You would have thought his purpose set, and that he would
not pause until he had rung the bell.

But you would have thought wrong. Half-way between the gate and the
house he stood still and looked at the ground. He was holding the
slender cane one knew so well like a weapon of defense, as if ready to
make a resolute slash with it to vindicate his irresolution.

After a moment he turned, grinding his heel into the earth. It was then
that a voice called out above him, "Hello, Gerald!"

He turned again and removed his straw hat. He and the lady leaning from
the terrace looked at each other for the space of a few heart-beats with
mechanical, constrained smiles. Then she asked:

"Aren't you going to come in?"

Instead of making the obvious answer and setting about the obvious
thing, he appeared to be debating the point within himself. At the end
of his hesitation, he asked:

"Could I prevail upon you to give me five minutes in the garden?"

"Why, certainly," answered Aurora, appreciating the fact that Estelle
would be superfluous at the peace-making that must follow.

She went very lightly down the stairs. She could hear Estelle's and
Tom's voices still in the dining-room. Instead of going out by the usual
door, too near to their sharp ears, she turned with soft foot into the
big b