“_That_ kind of love, Master Paul, thou hast known since thou wert a very little lad. Thou’st given it freely, out of a kind heart. But, dearie, thou hast but played at the great love—or more would’st thou know of fear.” And the old woman looked at me with shrewd question in her startling eyes. But I did know fear—and I knew that I knew love. My face turned anxiously toward De Lamourie’s, and I grudged every instant of further delay. “Good-by, mother, and the saints keep you!” I cried hastily, swinging off through the wet grass. But the old dame called after me gently: “Stop a minute, Master Paul. She will be at her supper by now; an’ in a little she’ll be walking in the garden path.” I stopped, filled with wonder, and my veins leaping in wild confusion at the sound of that little word “she.” It was as if the old woman had shouted “Yvonne” at the top of her voice. “What is it?” I stammered. “I want to look at thy hand, dearie,” she said, grasping it and turning it so as to catch the last of the fading light. “Your heart’s desire is nigh your death of hope,” said she presently, speaking like an oracle. Then she dropped my hand with a little dry chuckle, and turned away to her gathering of herbs as if I were of no further account. “What do you mean?” I asked eagerly. But she would not answer me. I scorned to appear too deeply concerned in such old woman’s foolery; so I asked no more, but went my way, carrying the word in my heart with a strange comfort—which, had I but known it, was right soon to turn into despair. Chapter IV “Habet!” I came upon the De Lamourie farmhouse by the rear of the orchard; and down through the low, blossoming arches, now humming with night moths and honey beetles, I hastened toward the front door. Before I reached it there arose an angry barking from the yard, and a huge black dog, objecting to the manner of my approach, came charging upon me with appearance of malign intent. I was vexed at the notion of a possible encounter, for I would not use my sword or my pistols on the guardian of my friend’s domain; yet I had small desire that the brute should tear my clothes. I cursed my folly in not carrying a stick wherewith to beat off such commonplace assailants. But there was nothing for it save indifference, so I paid no attention to the dog until he was almost upon me. Then I turned my head and said sharply, “Down, sir, down!”