that I was a dream child, and that all my life was a dream, and I must pray never to awake; but I do not think she knew, for all that she is a witch. They none of them know,--none, none! If I had not dreamed, as they call it,--if I had watched, and listened, and laid to heart, and become like them,--oh, then I should have died of your look when at last you came! But I ‘dreamed;’ and in that long dream you, though you were overseas, you showed me, little by little, that the spirit is not bond, but free,--that it can walk the waves, and climb to the sunset and the stars. And I found that the woods were fair, that the earth was fair and kind as when I was a little child. And I grew to love and long for goodness. And, day by day, I have had a life and a world where flowers bloomed, and the streams ran fresh, and there was bread indeed to eat. And it was you that showed me the road, that opened for me the gates!” She ceased to speak, and, turning fully toward him, took his hand and put it to her lips. “May you be very happy!” she said. “I thank you, sir, that when you came at last you did not break my dream. The dream fell short!” The smile upon her face was very sweet, very pure and noble. She would have gone without another word, but Haward caught her by the sleeve. “Stay awhile!” he cried. “I too am a dreamer, though not like you, you maid of Dian, dark saint, cold vestal, with your eyes forever on the still, white flame! Audrey, Audrey, Audrey! Do you know what a pretty name you have, child, or how dark are your eyes, or how fine this hair that a queen might envy? Westover has been dull, child.” Audrey shook her head and smiled, and thought that he was laughing at her. A vision of Evelyn, as Evelyn had looked that morning, passed before her. She did not believe that he had found Westover dull. “I am coming to Fair View, dark Audrey,” he went on. “In its garden there are roses yet blooming for thy hair; there are sweet verses calling to be read; there are cool, sequestered walks to be trodden, with thy hand in mine,--thy hand in mine, little maid. Life is but once; we shall never pass this way again. Drink the cup, wear the roses, live the verses! Of what sing all the sweetest verses, dark-eyed witch, forest Audrey?” “Of love,” said Audrey simply. She had freed her hand from his clasp, and her face was troubled. She did not understand; never had she seen him like this, with shining eyes and hot, unsteady touch. “There is the ball at the Palace to-morrow night,” he went on. “I must be there, for a fair lady and I are to dance together.” He smiled. “Poor Audrey, who hath never been to a ball; who only dances with the elves, beneath the moon, around a beechen tree! The next day I will go to Fair View, and you will be at the glebe house, and we will take up the summer where we left it, that weary month ago.”