Ah, if she were but back by the mill-stream, if she were but Leone Noel once again, with her life all unspoiled before her; if she were anything on earth except a woman possessed by a mad love. If she could but exchange these burning ashes of a burning love for the light, bright heart of her girlhood, when the world had been full of beauty which spoke to her in an unknown tongue. God had been so good to her; he had given to her the beauty of a queen, genius that was immortal, wit, everything life holds most fair, and they were all lost to her because of her mad love. Ah, well, never mind, the sun was shining, the river dancing far away in the sun, and she was to spend the day with him. She had dressed herself to perfection in a close-fitting dress of dark-gray velvet, relieved by ribbons of rose pink; she wore a hat with a dark-gray plume, under the shade of which her beautiful face looked doubly bewitching; the little hands, which by their royal gestures swayed multitudes, were cased in dark gray. Lord Chandos looked at her in undisguised admiration. "The day seems to have been made on purpose for us," he said, as he helped her in the boat. Leone laughed, but there was just the least tinge of bitterness in that laugh. "A day made for us would have gray skies, cold rains, and bleak, bitter winds," she said. And then the pretty pleasure boat floated away on the broad, beautiful stream. It was a day on which to dream of heaven; there was hardly a ripple on the beautiful Thames; the air was balmy, sweet, filled with the scent of hay from the meadows; of flowers from the banks; it was as though they had floated away into Paradise. Lord Chandos bent forward to see that the rugs were properly disposed; he opened her sunshade, but she would not use it. "Let me see the beautiful river, the banks and the yews, while I may," she said, "the sun will not hurt me." There was no sound save that of the oars cleaving the bright waters. Leone watched the river with loving eyes; since she had left River View--and she had loved it with something like passion--it seemed like part of that married life which had ended so abruptly. They passed by a thicket, where the birds were singing after a mad fashion of their own. "Stop and listen," she said, holding up her hand. He stopped and the boat floated gently with the noiseless tide. "I wonder," said Leone, "if in that green bird kingdom there are tragedies such as take place in ours?" Lord Chandos laughed. "You are full of fanciful ideas, Leone," he said. "Yes, I imagine, the birds have their tragedies because they have their loves." "I suppose there are pretty birds and plain birds, loving birds, and hard-hearted ones; some who live a happy life, filled with sunlight and song--some who die while the leaves are green, shot through the heart. In the kingdom of birds and the kingdom of men it is all just the same." "Which fate is yours, Leone?" asked Lord Chandos.