lips. He suddenly caught Fabian's
shoulder in a strong grip. "We've never been close friends, Fabian.
We've always been at sixes and sevens, and yet I feel you'd rather do me
a good turn than a bad one. Let me ask you this--that you'll not believe
anything bad of me till you've heard what I've got to say. Will you do
that?"

Fabian nodded. "Of course. But if I were you, I wouldn't bet on myself,
Carnac. Junia's worth running risks for. She's got more brains than my
wife and me together, and she bosses us; but with you, it's different.
I think you'd boss her. You're unexpected; you're daring; and you're
reckless."

"Yes, I certainly am reckless."

"Then why aren't you reckless now? You're going away. Why, you haven't
even told her you love her. The other man--is here, and--I've seen him
look at her? I know by the way she speaks of him how she feels. Besides,
he's a great masterful creature. Don't be a fool! Have a try ...
Junia--Junia," he called.

The figure in the garden with the flowers turned. There was a flicker of
understanding in the rare eyes. The girl held up a bunch of flowers high
like a torch.

"I'm coming, my children," she called, and, with a laugh, she ran
forward through the doorway.

"What is it you want, Fabian?" she asked, conscious that in Carnac's
face was consternation. "What can I do for you?" she added, with a
slight flush.

"Nothing for me, but for Carnac--" Fabian stretched out a hand.

She laughed brusquely. "Oh, Carnac! Carnac! Well, I've been making him
this bouquet." She held it out towards him. "It's a farewell bouquet
for his little journey in the world. Take it, Carnac, with everybody's
love--with Fabian's love, with Sibyl's love, with my love. Take it, and
good-bye."

With a laugh she caught up her hat from the table, and a moment later
she was in the street making for the mountain-side up which the children
had gone.

Carnac placed the bouquet upon the table. Then he turned to his brother.

"What a damn mess you make of things, Fabian!"

CHAPTER XIII. CARNAC'S RETURN

"Well, what's happened since I've been gone, mother?" asked Carnac. "Is
nobody we're interested in married, or going to be married?"

It was spring-time eight months after Carnac had vanished from Montreal,
and the sun of late April was melting the snow upon the hills, bringing
out the smell of the sprouting verdure and the exultant song of the
birds.

His mother replied sorrowfully: "Junia's be