In all moments of mental disturbance her first desire was for solitude, and in this crisis, bidding Morris not to follow her, she sped wildly out into the dark garden. There, leaning for support against the pillar of a statue, and gazing up at the serene masses of white clouds and the tinted halo encircling the moon, breathing in the perfume of the earth and its green growth, while a gentle breath of sea-breezes played with her heavy hair, she gradually regained calmness. Her Greek studies had taught her much--so much that she had believed there was but little left for her to learn. Yet to us all is life an untold tale--strange, unique, unguessed. What wisdom of sage, what sensual raptures of pagan poet, had ever prompted her to anticipate the exaltation, the triumph, that awoke at the realisation that she too had her share in the resistless power of womanhood? She felt plunged into full harmony with nature--felt herself knit to the great heart of woman all the world over by the sentient cords of sex-sympathy. Carried out of herself she flung back her head and gave utterance to emotion by lifting up her voice in song--just full rich notes that rolled forth unconsidered, all unhampered by words--a spontaneous outpouring of glorification and the joy of victory. Pressing both hands hard upon her bosom she felt the force with which it rose and fell beneath her deep breathing, and strangely delighted, the girl laughed triumphantly with the notes of her song. A sudden step near by startled her into abrupt shamefaced silence: Morris stood by her side. He had been seeking her in the garden and had traced her by this wild song that broke the stillness of the night. Unrestricted displays of feeling were entirely new to Evarne, her previous uneventful routine having given scant cause for much excitement of any sort. Now she felt keen abashment at her extraordinary show of emotion, and was almost humiliated to realise that she was not alone. "I told you not to follow me. I don't want you," she said quickly and decidedly. For a moment Morris was startled; then he understood the change that was beginning to take place in her mind. No longer was she a simple child addressing her guardian and benefactor, but a woman growing conscious of her own power. Of course she would be whimsical, capricious, alternately authoritative and submissive, wilful and yielding, like the rest of the darlings. "I meant to obey," he answered with ready meekness, "but can you blame the impotence of mortal man's resolution when the siren calls?" Sudden anger flashed over Evarne at this vague suggestion that she had fled from him only to draw him to her side again by her voice.