ice, and we slaves of the market dare not disregard
the call."

Hamlen forced a smile. "I shall miss you," he said simply.

"Come with us," Marian urged in a low voice. "That would make our visit
here complete."

The man made no response, yet she could see no signs of weakening. The
color left his face and it was now more ashen than before. The lips were
tightly compressed as if he feared to trust them, and his hands clenched
the walking-stick he held in front of him with a grip of iron. He
mastered himself at last, and the pathetic smile which wrung Marian's
heart whenever she saw it returned to his face. It was too clearly the
reflection of a wound which pride alone concealed from sight.

"You are too generous," he said at length, feeling the necessity of
making some response,--"far too generous; but it is like you, Marian.
Huntington is generous too, but you both are mistaken in your kindness.
There are some exotic growths which can't be transplanted; I am one of
those."

He paused for a moment; then he continued: "I must ask one more favor
before you go--come to me to-morrow afternoon and let us have a final
celebration in honor of our reunion. Come to my villa, all of you, and
in the midst of the family I have created--my flowers, my trees--let me
dedicate my home anew to the dear friends who have brought life back to
me, even though they too will soon join the memories amongst which I
must continue to live. Give me this last experience to remain with me
after you are gone."

"Of course we will, Philip,--we would love to come," Marian replied,
affected by his words and the depth of emotion which his voice
expressed. "It will be the one remembrance we would most rejoice to take
back with us if we can't take you. For these days, Philip," she added in
a voice so low that he alone could hear,--"these days have not been
vital ones for you alone, dear friend. Our meeting has brought back much
to me which I shall always cherish, and beyond all I wish I might be the
means of giving you back that happiness you lost through me."

"No, no! You mustn't say that, Marian!"

"Oh, but I feel the burden of it, Philip! You give me no chance to make
restitution. If you would only come--"

A tremor ran through his frame but he quickly controlled himself. "No,
Marian," he said firmly; "you must come to me!"

While the little group were conversing together the bathers had left the
pool, and now one by one appeared from the b