It was while he was in this mood that he reached Florizel after a long night's ride, and Christina who was a good deal of a philosopher and thinker herself at times was quick to notice it. She was waiting at the depot with a dainty little trap of her own to take him for a drive. The trap rolled out along the soft, yellow, dusty roads. The mountain dew was still in the earth though and the dust was heavy with damp and not flying. Green branches of trees hung low over them, charming vistas came into view at every turn. Eugene kissed her, for there was no one to see, twisting her head to kiss her lips at leisure. "It's a blessed thing this horse is tame or we'd be in for some accident. What makes you so moody?" she said. "I'm not moody--or am I? I've been thinking a lot of things of late--of you principally." "Do I make you sad?" "From one point of view, yes." "And what is that, sir?" she asked with an assumption of severity. "You are so beautiful, so wonderful, and life is so short." "You have only fifty years to love me in," she laughed, calculating his age. "Oh, Eugene, what a boy you are!--Wait a minute," she added after a pause, drawing the horse to a stop under some trees. "Hold these," she said, offering him the reins. He took them and she put her arms about his neck. "Now, you silly," she exclaimed, "I love you, love you, love you! There was never anyone quite like you. Will that help you?" she smiled into his eyes. "Yes," he answered, "but it isn't enough. Seventy years isn't enough. Eternity isn't enough of life as it is now." "As it is now," she echoed and then took the reins, for she felt what he felt, the need of persistent youth and persistent beauty to keep it as it should be, and these things would not stay. CHAPTER XXIV