elt a remote nostalgia.

"Dowie is very brave and tries not to be frightened," she went on; "but
she is really afraid that something may happen to my mind. She thinks it
is only a queer dream which may turn out unhealthy. But it is not. It is
Donal."

"Yes, it is Donal," he answered gravely. And he believed he was speaking
a truth, though he was aware of no material process of reasoning by
which such a conclusion could be reached. One had to overleap gaps--even
abysses--where material reasoning came to a full stop. One could only
argue that there might be yet unknown processes to be revealed. Mere
earthly invention was revealing on this plane unknown processes year by
year--why not on other planes?

"I wanted to tell you because I want you to know everything about me. It
seems as if I belong to you, Lord Coombe," there was actual sweet
pleading in her voice. "You watched and made my life for me. I should
not have been this Robin if you had not watched. When Donal came back he
found me in the house you had taken me to because I could be safe in it.
Everything has come from you.... I am yours as well as Donal's."

"You give me extraordinary comfort, dear child," he said. "I did not
know that I needed it, but I see that I did. Perhaps I have longed for
it without knowing it. You have opened closed doors."

"I will do anything--everything--you wish me to do. I will _obey_ you
always," she said.

"You are doing everything I most desire," he answered.

"Then I will try more every day."

She meant it as she had always meant everything she said. It was her
innocent pledge of faithful service, because, understanding at last, she
had laid her white young heart in gratitude at his feet. No living man
could have read her more clearly than this one whom half Europe had
secretly smiled at as its most finished debauchee. When she took her
pretty basket upon her knee and began to fold its bits of lawn
delicately for the night, he felt as if he were watching some stainless
acolyte laying away the fine cloths of an altar.

Though no one would have accused him of being a sentimentalist or an
emotional man, his emotions overpowered him for once and swept doubt of
emotion and truth into some outer world.

* * * * *

The morning rose fair and the soft wind blowing across the gorse and
heather brought scents with it. Dowie waited upon him at his early
breakfast and took the liberty of indulging in open speech.

"You go away lo