“Nothing,” she answered firmly. Silence fell for a moment. They looked across at each other steadily, she meeting his smile defiantly. Then the color crept up from throat to cheeks and her eyes dropped. “Dear,” he said gently, “I don’t care what happened before that ‘afterward.’ I loved you from the first moment, but I’m not going to resent it if it took you longer to discover my irresistible charms. Why, hang it all, I’m proud you should have thought me worth marrying even for my money! But ‘afterward,’ dear? When I kissed you? You can’t make me believe there was no love then, Cicely. And it is still ‘afterward,’ and it always will be! Dear, Arcadia is waiting for you. The lotus pool is lonely without you. And so am I, Cicely, Cicely dear!” [Illustration] “Oh, I knew you would try to forgive me,” she cried miserably. “That is why I――didn’t want you to come. Because after awhile you would remember and――――” “Cicely!” “And you’d hate me!” “Cicely! Look at me, dear! I want you to――――” Soft footfalls reached them. The pale youth was approaching, his arms laden with books. Ethan bit his lip and fell silent. “I beg your pardon, Miss Hoyt, but would you mind giving me――――” Ethan stepped toward him. “Here,” he said hurriedly, “here’s just what you’re after. It’s no trouble at all.” He forced the “Love Sonnets from the Portuguese,” into the youth’s hands and turned him gently but firmly away from the counter. The youth looked from the book to Ethan. “How――how did you know?” he stammered resentfully. “Never mind how, my boy. You’ve got it. Run along.” After a moment of indecision, of many silent looks of inquiry and dark suspicion, the youth trod softly away again. Ethan looked at Cicely and they smiled together. Then she sank into her chair at the desk and laughed helplessly, and cried a little, too. And Ethan said no word until she had pressed the handkerchief to her eyes and turned toward him again. Then, “Will you come back to your lotus pool, O Clytie?” he asked softly. “Wouldn’t it be rather cold and damp this weather?” she asked with a little trembling laugh. “I am going to have it steam-heated,” he answered gravely. “I was there yesterday, Clytie, and it looked very forlorn without you, dear.” “You were there?” she asked wonderingly. “Yes. I forgot to tell you, didn’t I? The Larches is mine, dear, and the lotus pool shall be yours for life, if you’ll let me come sometimes and sit beside you under the trees on the bank. Will you?” She dropped her eyes. “Will you?” he repeated. [Illustration: “WILL YOU?” HE REPEATED.] She moved nearer, with lowered head, and laid her hands palms up on the oaken counter. He took them and drew her toward him. She raised a rosy face toward him, the violet eyes darting fearfully toward the reading room. Ethan paused and looked thoughtful. “In nice libraries,” he said, “they have what they call the open stacks. Is it so here?” She shook her head. “But――there might be exceptions?”