"Indeed I have"--replied Walden, as he shook hands with Cicely and nodded pleasantly to Julian--"I'm afraid, Miss Vancourt, that if you knew how often I have sat alone in this library, turning over the precious volumes, you might be very angry with me! But I have saved one or two from the encroaches of damp, such as the illuminated vellum 'Petrarch,' and some few rare manuscripts--so you must try to forgive my trespass. Mrs. Spruce used to let me come in and study here whenever I liked." "Will you not do so still?" queried Maryllia, sweetly--"I can promise you both solitude and silence." Again a wave of awkwardness overcame him. What could he say in response to this friendly and gentle graciousness! "You are very kind,"--he murmured. "Not at all. The library is very seldom used--so the kindness will be quite on your side if you can make it of service. I daresay you know more about the books than I do. My father was very proud of them." "He had cause to be,"--said Walden, beginning to recover his equanimity and ease as the conversation turned into a channel which was his natural element--"It is one of the finest collections in England. The manuscripts alone are worth a fortune." Here he moved to the table where Adderley stood turning over a wondrously painted 'Book of Hours'--"That is perfect twelfth-century work"--he said-- "There is a picture in it which ought to please Miss Cicely," and he turned the pages over tenderly--"Here it is,--the loveliest of Saint Cecilias, in the act of singing!" Cicely smiled with pleasure, and hung over the beautifully illuminated figure, surrounded with angels in clouds of golden glory. "There's one thing about Heaven which everybody seems agreed upon,"- -she said--"It's a place where we're all expected to sing!" "Not a doubt of it!" agreed Walden--"You will be quite in your element!" "The idea of Heaven is remote--so very remote!" said Adderley--"But if such a place existed, and I were bound to essay a vocal effort there, I should transform it at once to Hell! The angels would never forgive me!" They laughed. "Let us go into the garden"--said Maryllia--"It is quite lovely just now,--there are such cool deep shadows on the lawn." Cicely at once ran out, beckoning Adderley to follow. Maryllia tied on her hat with its pink strings and its bunch of pink hyacinths tumbling against her small shell-like ear, and looked up from under its brim with an entrancing smile. "Will you come, Mr. Walden?"