The Autumn afternoon sun was yet high enough to take the chill off the crisp air, and on a wicker couch, covered with a fur rug, they sat down. "Here's where we sat, the night of----" began Barry, and then stopped, not wanting to stir up awful memories. "I know it," returned Natalie. "You left me here,--where did you go, Barry?" "Off with Thor and Woden for a short tramp. You said you were going upstairs, don't you remember?" "Yes. But where did you tramp?" "Oh, around the grounds." "Which way?" "What a little inquisitor! Well, let me see. We went across this lawn first." "Did you see Mr. Courtenay on that stone bench there?" "No, I don't think so. No, I'm sure I didn't. Why?" "I just wanted to know. Where did you go next? Come, Barry, I'll go with you. Go over the same path you went that night." Barry looked at her curiously, and said, "Come on, then." They started across the lawn, and soon Natalie turned and looked back. "Could you see me from here?" she asked. "Not at night, no. But I didn't try. I thought you had gone in the house, and I went straight ahead. The dogs were jumping all over me, and I was thinking of them." "Oh, Barry! After the conversation we had just had, were you thinking of the dogs instead of me?" "Well, the dogs were bothering me,--and you weren't!" "Where next?" But Barry hesitated. "By Jove. I don't know which way I did go next. Let me see." Natalie waited. "Down to the Italian gardens?" she said at last. "No,--that is, I don't think so. Where _did_ I go?" "Barry! You must know where you went. How silly." "It isn't silly. I--I can't remember,--that's all." "Then you refuse to tell me?" "I don't refuse,--I just don't remember." "Barry! Do remember. You must!" After a moment's silence, he turned and met her gaze squarely, saying, "I have no recollection. Don't ask me that again." Natalie gave him a pained, despairing look and without a word, turned their footsteps toward the Italian gardens, the beautiful landscape planned and laid out by a genius. Down the stone steps they went and paused in the shadow of a clump of carved box. Then Barry took her in his arms. "Dear little girl," he breathed in her ear, "don't be afraid. It will all come out right. But we don't want the truth known. Now, don't give way," as a sob shook Natalie's quivering shoulders. "You mustn't talk or think another word about it. Obey me, now, take your mind right off the subject! Think of something pleasanter,--think of me!" "I can't very well help that,--when you're so close!" and the lovely deep blue eyes smiled through unshed tears. "You heavenly thing! Natalie, have you any idea how beautiful you are?" "If I am, I am glad, for your sake. I needn't ever pose again, need I, Barry?" "Well, I guess No! A photograph of you, all bundled up in furs, is the nearest I shall ever let you come to a portrait! Dear, when will you marry me?" "Oh, I can't marry you! I can't--I can't!"