. Beaton was speaking a thin, eager
voice called Sunna's name, a door flew open, and a man, beautiful as
a dream-man, stood in the entrance to welcome them. And here the word
"beautiful" need not to be erased; it was the very word that sprang
naturally from the heart to the lips of every one when they met
Maximus Grant. No Greek sculptor ever dreamed of a more perfect form
and face; the latter illumined by noticeable grey eyes, contemplative
and mystical, a face, thoughtful and winning, and constantly breaking
into kind smiles.

He took Sunna's hand, and they went quickly forward to a boy of about
eleven years old, whom Sunna kissed and petted. The little lad was in
a passion of delight. He called her "his sweetheart! his wife! his
Queen!" and made her take off her bonnet and cloak and sit down beside
him. He was half lying in a softly cushioned chair; there was a large
globe at his side, and an equally large atlas, with other books on a
small table near by, and Max's chair was close to the whole
arrangement. He was a fair, lovely boy, with the seraphic eyes that
sufferers from spinal diseases so frequently possess--eyes with the
look in them of a Conqueror of Pain. But also, on his young face there
was the solemn Trophonean pallor which signs those who daily dare "to
look at death in the cave."

"Max and I have been to the Greek islands," he said, "and Sunna, as
soon as I am grown up, and am quite well, I shall ask thee to marry
me, and then we will go to one of the loveliest of them and live
there. Max thinks that would be just right."

"Thou little darling," answered Sunna, "when thou art a man, if thou
ask me to marry thee, I shall say 'yes!'"

"Of course thou wilt. Sunna loves Eric?"

"I do, indeed, Eric! I think we should be very happy. We should never
quarrel or be cross with each other."

"Oh! I would not like that! If we did not quarrel, there would be no
making-up. I remember papa and mamma making-up their little tiffs, and
they seemed to be very happy about it--and to love each other ever so
much better for the tiff and the make-up. I think we must have little
quarrels, Sunna; and then, long, long, happy makings-up."

"Very well, Eric; only, thou must make the quarrel. With thee I could
not quarrel."

"I should begin it in this way: 'Sunna, I do not approve of thy
dancing with--say--Ken McLeod.' Then thou wilt say: 'I shall dance
with whom I like, Eric'; and I will reply: 'thou art my wife and I
wi