Feeling almost glad again, I broke off cluster after cluster, softly singing an old song to myself all the while. It was a song about the fleeting joys of childhood, and the little lovers who came with their simple gifts to win the heart of the merry child. Quite suddenly, while I was singing it, I remembered another lover, older and sadder, who had won me with the magic of his melancholy Spanish eyes, and whispered words of sad yearning. And then I burst out into a wild sob which put an end to the song. Carrying my light burden of flowers, I went onward through the old lanes, quietly weeping. But the sweet breath of the fields, and the calm of the deepening dusk, tranquillised my spirit, and made me even as a little child. Still pressing on, and still trying vainly to disentangle my brain from the web that was wound about it, I found myself at the end of the lane. It opened out upon a space of green sward, and then began to narrow again. But on my right, in the clear twilight, arose the familiar outline of a massive tower; and, protected by a low flint wall, were certain dark yews, whose evening whisper recalled other childish memories. On the left were more trees, beeches and sycamores, and a great cedar which stood as a patriarch among his brethren. I knew those trees quite well. The cedar boughs darkened the study window where the rector sat to write his sermons, and shadowed that very "guest chamber" wherein I hoped to sleep to-night. And, indeed, it was time for me to go to sleep. I was so tired that my limbs seemed to be clogged with iron fetters, and my feet found it hard to keep to a straight line. The gate of the rectory garden stood wide open, and the friendly old trees rustled a welcome as I passed under their boughs and made my way, feebly and unsteadily, to the house door. After some searching, I found the bell-handle, hidden somewhere in the thick ivy leaves, and gave it a pull. A muffled peal met my dull ears, and at length there were footsteps, and the heavy oaken door slowly opened. I was conscious of a dim light shining out of a dark entry, and of the face of an elderly woman-servant, whose eyes looked inquisitively into mine. Gathering up all my forces, I spoke in a clear voice, eager to make myself known and understood at once. [Illustration: I BROKE OUT INTO AN EXCEEDING BITTER CRY.] "I want to see Miss Drury. Please go and tell her that Louie Coverdale has brought her some honeysuckle, and ask her to come quickly." "Lord, have mercy upon us!" ejaculated the woman, in great dismay. And then she disappeared for a moment, and her trembling voice went echoing through the long passages of the old house, while I, faint and weary, stood leaning against the post of the door. A man came out next, a venerable man, with delicate features and snow-white hair; and at the sight of him, I broke out into an exceeding bitter cry.