"The first week in June." "How delightful! I know I shall recover my health, once I get there. How impatient I am already! Star, is everything packed?" "Almost, Edith," answered Star. "We will not want many fine clothes, Star; I am going out to rough it for awhile. Is it rough up there, Mr. Winthrope?" "Very--in some places," he answered. "And you will be up in June?" she asked, now feeling enthusiastic. "That is my plan, now," he replied, uncertainly. "You will not let anything interfere, for I want to see your sister, and I know Star will want to see your brother," she said, with a weak smile toward Star, who blushed very red at the idea of meeting John's brother. Edith was by this time worked up to a high state of excitement over the prospect of the new life she was to lead. John, discerning the bad effect it had on her, and fearing further complications should he remain, rose to depart. She raised her hand to bid him good bye. He took it, touched his lips to her fingers, looked down upon her, and said, "Good bye." "Good bye," she said, "till we meet in the mountains. Good bye!" And John was gone. The same wild emotions whirled through his soul, as in those other times, when he was so fraught with the uncertainty of her demeanor during her night of illusions, as he left the mansion on the hill. The same musical good bye, he heard echoing from the buzz of the automobile that wheeled him to the city. The same he heard following him, pursuing him, pervading him and everything--in the crowds of the streets, under the lights, in the hotel corridor, in the lobby, in his room; and, finally, the last he heard singing him to peaceful sleep. But he heard it now played on a different harp from that which lulled him into sleep many times before. CHAPTER XXIX. EDITH RECOVERS AND YOUNG COBB PAYS HIS RESPECTS. It was another morning in May. The sun was climbing over the wooded hills to the east; the wind was pulsing through the leafing trees; the wild flowers were blooming by the roadside and in the dusky dells; the butterfly, bee and bird were in their delights of mating, and all creation was swinging in the swing of renewed vitality at the touch of speeding spring. Edith, with the ever confiding Star by her side, sat wrapped in a summer cloak on the eastern end of the sweeping reach of the veranda of the Summit House, which sits, with much pretentious rambling, where the old National way winds up from the east and twists up from the west in its macadamed smoothness in crossing the mountain divide.