appiness that we must consider; and if it is to last and endure, we
must be very, very careful that nothing really disturbs it again. And
that means that the love, which is sometimes called friendship, must be
recognised as sufficient. . . . You know how it is; a man who is locked
up in Paradise is never satisfied until he can climb the wall and look
over! Now I have climbed and looked; and now I climb back into the
garden of your dear friendship, very glad to be there again with
you--very, very thankful, dear. . . . Will you welcome me back?"

She lay quite still a minute, then sat up straight, stretching out both
hands to him, her beautiful, fearless eyes brilliant as rain-washed
stars.

"Don't go away," she said--"don't ever go away from our garden again."

"No, Eileen."

"Is it a promise . . . Philip?"

Her voice fell exquisitely low.

"Yes, a promise. Do you take me back, Eileen?"

"Yes; I take you. . . . Take me back, too, Philip." Her hands tightened
in his; she looked up at him, faltered, waited; then in a fainter voice:
"And--and be of g-good courage. . . . I--I am not very old yet."

She withdrew her hands and bent her head, sitting there, still as a
white-browed novice, listlessly considering the lengthening shadows at
her feet. But, as he rose and looked out across the waste with enchanted
eyes that saw nothing, his heart suddenly leaped up quivering, as though
his very soul had been drenched in immortal sunshine.

An hour later, when Nina discovered them there together, Eileen, curled
up among the cushions in the swinging seat, was reading aloud "Evidences
of Asiatic Influence on the Symbolism of Ancient Yucatan"; and Selwyn,
astride a chair, chin on his folded arms, was listening with evident
rapture.

"Heavens!" exclaimed Nina, "the blue-stocking and the fogy!--and yours
_are_ pale blue, Eileen!--you're about as self-conscious as
Drina--slumping there with your hair tumbling _a la_ Merode! Oh, it's
very picturesque, of course, but a straight spine and good grooming is
better. Get up, little blue-stockings and we'll have our hair done--if
you expect to appear at Hitherwood House with me!"

Eileen laughed, calmly smoothing out her skirt over her slim ankles;
then she closed the book, sat up, and looked happily at Selwyn.

"Fogy and _Bas-bleu_," she repeated. "But it _is_ fascinating, isn't
it?--even if my hair is across my ears and you sit that chair like a
polo player! Nina, dearest, what is