rmony with that grave, renewing, fruitful heart of all things,
whereof the daffodils and the cherry-blossom were but symbols.

Presently there were voices beneath them--climbing voices that came
nearer--of a man and a woman. Nelly's hand begun to pluck restlessly at
the grass beside her.

Cicely emerged first, Cicely in white, very bridal, and very happy. Very
conscious too, though she did not betray it by a movement or a look, of
the significance of this first meeting, since Sarratt's death, between
her brother and Nelly. But they met very simply. Nelly went a little way
down the steep to meet them. She kissed Cicely, and gave Farrell her
hand.

'It was very good of you to come.'

But then it seemed to Hester, who could not help watching it, that
Nelly's face, as she stood there looking gravely at Farrell, shewed a
sudden trouble and agitation. It was gone very quickly, however, and she
and he walked on together along a green path skirting the fells, and
winding through the daffodils and the hawthorns.

Cicely and Hester followed, soon perceiving that the two ahead had
slipped into animated conversation.

'What can it be about?' said Cicely, in Hester's ear.

'I heard the word "Charcot,"' said Hester.

The bride listened deliberately.

'And William's talking about an article in the _Lancet_ he's been boring
Herbert and me with, by that very specialist that Nelly's so keen
about,--the man that is going to have her trained to nurse his cases.
Something about the new treatment of "shock." I say, Hester, what an odd
sort of fresh beginning!'

Cicely turned a look half grave, half laughing on her companion--adding
hastily--

'The specialist's married!'

Hester frowned a little.

'Beginning of what?'

'Oh, I don't know,' said Cicely, with a shrug, 'But life is long,
Mademoiselle Hester, and now they've got a common interest--outside
themselves. They can talk about _things_--not feelings. Goodness!--did
you hear that? William is head over ears in his new antiseptic--and look
at Nelly--she's quite pink! That's what I meant by her being _horribly
impersonal_. She used the word "scientific" to me, three times, when I
went to see her--_Nelly_!'

'If she's impersonal, I should doubt whether William is,' said Hester
drily.

'Ah, no--poor Willy!' was Cicely's musing reply. 'It's a hard time for
him. I don't believe she's ever out of his mind. Or at least, she
wouldn't be, if it weren't for his work. That's the