d tenderly as she
remembered that even on the day when she scolded him, and he had to
admit his "barely respectable B.A.," he had not told her of the
painting hung on the line and mentioned in the _Times_. Yet if the
question of art had come up, the Boy would very probably have sat
forward in his chair, and talked about his painting, straight on end,
for half an hour.

She still stood beneath the archway, in the red-brick wall, as these
thoughts chased quickly through her mind. She would have made a fair
picture for any one who had chanced to be waiting beneath the
mulberry-tree, with eyes upon the gate.

"Straight on end for half an hour, he would have talked about his
picture; and how bright his eyes would have been. And then I should
have said: 'I saw it, Boy dear; and it was quite as beautiful as you
say.' And he would have answered: 'It jolly well gave you the feeling
of the scene, didn't it, Christo_bel_?' And I should have known that
his delight in it, as an artistic success, had nothing to do with the
fact that it was painted by himself. Just because egotism is
impossible to him, he is free to be so full of vivid enthusiasm."

She smiled again. A warm glow seemed to enfold her. "How well I know
my Boy!" she said aloud; then remembered with a sudden pang that she
must not call him _her_ Boy. She had let him go. She was--very
probably--going to marry the Professor. She had not--with the whole of
her being--wanted him to stay, until he had had the manliness to rise
up and go. Then--it had been too late. Ah, was it too late? If the
Boy came back to plead once more? If once again she could hear him
say: "Age is nothing! Time is nothing! Love is all!" would she not
answer: "Yes, Guy. Love _is_ all"?

The blood rushed into her sweet proud face. The name of the man she
loved had come into her mind unconsciously. It had never yet--as a
name for him--passed her lips. That she should unconsciously call him
so in her heart, gave her another swift moment of self-revelation.

She closed the gate gently, careful not to let it bang. As she passed
up the lawn, her heart stood still. It seemed to her that he must be
waiting, in the shade of the mulberry-tree.

She hardly dared to look. She felt so sure he was there.... Yes, she
knew he was there.... She felt certain the Boy had come back. He
could not stay away from her on his sixth day. Had he not said he
would "march round" every day? Ah, dea