transformed.

But in the midst of all his glad sympathy Felix could not help thinking:
'Better for you, perhaps, if he had never returned from darkness!'

She came and crouched down by him.

"Let me sit with you, Dad. It smells so good."

"Very well; but you must sleep."

"I don't believe I'll ever want to sleep again."

And at the glow in her Felix glowed too. What is so infectious as
delight? They sat a long time talking, as they had not talked since the
first fatal visit to Becket. Of how love, and mountains, works of art,
and doing things for others were the only sources of happiness; except
scents, and lying on one's back looking through tree-tops at the sky;
and tea, and sunlight, flowers, and hard exercise; oh, and the sea! Of
how, when things went hard, one prayed--but what did one pray to? Was
it not to something in oneself? It was of no use to pray to the great
mysterious Force that made one thing a cabbage, and the other a king;
for That could obviously not be weak-minded enough to attend. And
gradually little pauses began to creep into their talk; then a big
pause, and Nedda, who would never want to sleep again, was fast asleep.

Felix watched those long, dark lashes resting on her cheeks; the slow,
soft rise of her breast; the touching look of trust and goodness in that
young face abandoned to oblivion after these hours of stress; watched
the little tired shadows under the eyes, the tremors of the just-parted
lips. And, getting up, stealthy as a cat, he found a light rug, and ever
more stealthily laid it over her. She stirred at that, smiled up at him,
and instantly went off again. And he thought: 'Poor little sweetheart,
she WAS tired!' And a passionate desire to guard her from trials and
troubles came on him.

At four o'clock Kirsteen slipped in again, and whispered: "She made me
promise to come for her. How pretty she looks, sleeping!"

"Yes," Felix answered; "pretty and good!"

Nedda raised her head, stared up at her aunt, and a delighted smile
spread over her face. "Is it time again? How lovely!" Then, before
either could speak or stop her, she was gone.

"She is more in love," Kirsteen murmured, "than I ever saw a girl of her
age."

"She is more in love," Felix answered, "than is good to see."

"She is not truer than Derek is."

"That may be, but she will suffer from him."

"Women who love must always suffer."

Her cheeks were sunken, shadowy; she looked very tired. When she had
g