"I am fey, I think," she cried. "Let me go to my room; I am better there." He held the door open, and she passed him quickly with lowered eyes. He watched her run up the stairs, and then threw himself into a chair and stared thoughtfully at the floor. *CHAPTER XXII* *THE TOBACCO HOUSE AGAIN* The master of Verney Manor and his guests slept late, for the carouse of the night before had been deep and prolonged. The master’s daughter rose with the sun, and went down into the garden, and thence through the wicket into the mulberry grove, where she found Margery sitting on the ground, tieing goldenrod to her staff. "Come and walk with me, Margery," she said. Margery rose with alacrity. "Where shall we go?" she asked in a whisper. "To the forest? There were eyes in the forest last night, not the great, still, solemn eyes that stare at Margery every night, but eyes that glowed like coals, and moved from bush to bush. Margery was afraid, and she left the forest, and sat by the water side all night, listening to what it had to say. A star shot, and Margery knew that a soul was on its way to Paradise, where she would fain go if only she could find the way.... There are purple flowers growing by the creek between the cedar wood and the marsh. Let us go gather them, and trim Margery’s staff very bravely." "I care not where we go," said her mistress. "There as well as elsewhere." "Come, then," said Margery, and took the lead. When they had entered the strip of cedars which lay between the wide fields and the point of land on which stood the third tobacco house, Patricia stopped beneath a great tree. "We will go no further, Margery," she said. Margery objected. "The purple flowers grow by the water side." "Do you go and gather them then," said Patricia wearily. "I will wait for you here." Margery glided away, and her mistress sat down upon the dark-red earth at the foot of the tree. There was a cold and sombre stillness in the wood. The air smelt chill and dank, and the light came through the low, closely woven roof of foliage, as though it were filtered through crape, but at the end of the vista of trees shone a glory of sea and sky and gold-green marsh. Patricia gazed with dreamy eyes. "It is all fair," she said. "What was it that Dr. Nash read? ’My lines are fallen in pleasant places.’ Riches and honor, and, they say, beauty, and many to love me.—O Lord God! I wish for happiness!" She laid her cheek against the cool earth, and the splendor before her wavered into a mist of rose and azure. "Why should I weep," she said, "that my lines are laid in pleasant places?"