en to set to music, the setting he had given them. It was an
uncompromising nature, an uncompromising talent. And yet--there was the
other side. There was something ready to rush out to satisfy
expectation.

She was deeply interested in Heath.

About ten days after the "spree" at the Monico she received a telegram
from Marseilles--"Starting to-night, home the day after to-morrow;
love.--CHARMIAN."

Heath dropped in that day, and Mrs. Mansfield mentioned the telegram.

"Charmian will be back on Thursday. I told you Adelaide Shiffney would
be in a hurry."

"Then they are not going on to the Greek Isles," he said.

"Not this time."

She glanced at him and thought he was looking rather sad.

"Will you come and dine on Thursday night just with me and Charmian?"
she said. "If she is tired with the journey from Paris you may be alone
with me. If not, she can tell us about her little African experiences."

"Thank you. Yes, I should like to come very much!"

The strangely imaginative expression, which made his rather plain face
almost beautiful, shone in his eyes and seemed to shed a flicker of
light about his brow and lips, as he added:

"I have travelled so little that to me there is something almost
wonderful in the arrival of someone from Africa. Even the name comes to
me always like fire and black mystery. Last night, just before I went to
bed, I was reading Chateaubriand, and I came across a passage that kept
me awake for hours."

"What was it?"

She leaned a little forward, ready to be fascinated as evidently he had
been.

"He is writing of Napoleon, and says of him something like this."

Heath paused, looked down, seemed to make an effort, and continued, with
his eyes turned away from Mrs. Mansfield:

"'His enemies, fascinated, seek him and do not see him. He hides himself
in his glory, as the lion of the Sahara hides himself in the rays of the
sun to escape from the searching eyes of the dazzled hunters.' Isn't
that simply gorgeous? It set my imagination galloping. 'As the lion of
the Sahara hides himself in the rays of the sun'--by Jove!" He got up.
"I was out of England last night. And to think that Miss Charmian is
actually arriving from Africa!"

When he was gone Mrs. Mansfield said to herself: "He's a child, too!"
And she felt restless and troubled. Naivete leads men of genius into
such unsuitable regions sometimes. It was rather wonderful that he could
feel as he did about Africa and refuse t