er with _empressement_, and the coffee was served.

It was a delicious, old-fashioned, country breakfast--crisp trout,
bacon, eggs, and mounds of fragrant flapjacks.

"Langham's gone off to the West Branch; left duty's compliments and all
that sort of thing for you," observed the Colonel, testing his coffee
with an air.

His Highness, who had sniffed the bacon, got up on a chair where he
could sit and view the table. Moisture gathered on his jet-black nose;
he licked his jowl.

"You poor darling!" cried his mistress, rising impulsively, with her
plate in her hand. She set the plate on the floor. It was cleaned with a
snap, then carefully polished.

"You are fond of your dog, madam," said the Major, much interested.

"He's a fine one," added the Colonel. "Gad! I took him for Langham's
champion at first."

She bent her head over the dog's plate.

Later she walked to the porch, followed by His Highness.

A lovely little path invited them on--a path made springy by trodden
leaves; and the dog and his mistress strolled forth among clumps of
hazel and silver-birches, past ranks of alders and Indian-willows, on
across log bridges spanning tiny threads of streams which poured into
the stony river.

The unceasing chorus of the birds freshened like wind in her ears.
Spring echoes sounded from blue distances; the solemn congress of the
forest trees in session murmured of summers past and summers to come.

How could her soul sink in the presence of the young world's uplifting?

Her dog came back and looked up into her eyes. With a cry, which was
half laughter, she raced with him along the path, scattering the wild
birds into flight from bush and thicket.

Breathless, rosy, she halted at the river's shallow edge.

Flung full length on the grass, she dipped her white fingers in the
river, and dropped wind-flowers on the ripples to watch them dance away.

She listened to the world around her; it had much to say to her if she
would only believe it. But she forced her mind back to her husband and
lay brooding.

An old man in leggings and corduroys came stumping along the path; His
Highness heard him coming and turned his keen head. Then he went and
stood in front of his mistress, calm, inquisitive, dangerous.

"Mornin', miss," said the keeper; "I guess you must be one of our
folks."

"I am staying at the club-house," she said, smiling, and sitting up on
the grass.

"I'm old Peter, one o' the guards," he said. "Fi