conscious, warmed by sunbeams not fully grown up and
therefore not able to do the work of the sunbeams of summer. She told
him of the rainbow that is set in the clouds like a promise made from
a very great distance, and of the pale and innocent flowers of Spring:
primroses, periwinkles, violets, cowslips, flowers of dells in the
budding woods, and of clearings round which the trees stand on guard
about the safe little daisies and wild hyacinths and wild crocuses;
flowers of the sloping meadows that go down to the streams of Spring.
And all along the streams the twigs are budding; the yellow "lambs'
tails" swing in the breeze, as if answering to the white lambs' tails
that are wagging in the fields. The thrush sings in the copse, and in
his piercing sweet note is the sound of Spring.

Bending over Robin, Rosamund imitated the note of the thrush, and Robin
stared up at her with ardent eyes.

"Does Mr. Thrush ever do that?"

"I've never heard him do it."

And she went on talking about the Spring.

How she loved that hour talking of Spring in the country with her human
Spring in her arms. What was the war to her just then? Robin abolished
war. While she had him there was always the rainbow, the perfect
rainbow, rising from the world to the heavens and falling from the
heavens to the world. The showers were fleeting Spring showers, and the
clouds were fleecy and showed the blue.

"Robin, Robin, Robin!" she breathed over her child, when they had lived
in the Spring together, the pure and exquisite Spring.

And Robin, all glowing with the ardor he had caught from her, declared
for the country.

A few days later Rosamund wrote to Canon Wilton, who happened to be in
residence at Welsley out of his usual time, and asked him if he knew of
any pretty small house, with a garden, in the neighborhood, where she
and Robin could settle down till Dion came back from the war. In answer
she got a letter from the Canon inviting her to spend a night or two at
his house in the Precincts. In a P.S. he wrote:

"If you can come next week I think I can arrange with Mr. Soames, our
precentor, for Wesley's 'Wilderness' to be sung at one of the afternoon
services; but let me know by return what days you will be here."

Rosamund replied by telegraph. Aunt Beatrice was installed in Little
Market Street for a couple of nights as Robin's protector, and Rosamund
went down to Welsley, and spent two days with the Canon.

She had never been