The thought that he would be tended by Angela, that he would be able to command, by the royal will of a wounded man, her sweet presence, her soft voice in reading to him, her conversation, which was full of archness and simplicity, captivated him. The delicious glow which overspread his spirit extended to his body and gave him an exquisite sense of ease and comfort. In that month which he allowed himself he would become well acquainted with Angela’s mind. He had taken but small interest in women’s minds before, although he keenly appreciated their accomplishments. Angela had few of these accomplishments, but as well expect accomplishments of a wood nymph. The study of her intelligence, however, was like exploring a beautiful pleasance where there were groves, gardens, and crystal fountains. She was one of the few women he had ever seen whom he felt convinced age could not wither nor custom stale. He was so lost in his delicious reverie that he did not hear the quiet opening of the door, and then Angela with her usually pale cheeks scarlet with the tingling cold, her eyes sparkling, and the snowflakes still lying on her red mantle, stood by him. She shook the snow off the mantle and cried: “I had such an exciting walk! It was only up and down the garden path from the gate to the bench under the lilac bushes, but it seemed to me as if I had never before seen the garden look quite as it did. You know, there is a moon, although there is a snowstorm. That doesn’t happen often. And then I had such strange thoughts!” “Were they unhappy thoughts?” asked Isabey, turning his black eyes upon her. “N--o, not at all unhappy, but singular. You see, up to a year ago nothing had ever happened to me, and now all things are happening, all things are changing.” Isabey rose weakly from the couch, and, taking Angela’s hand in his, kissed it with the tenderest respect. “I hope,” he said, “that all will work toward your happiness. I hope some day you will be happy with Neville Tremaine, but you can afford to be a little kind to me.” “Yes,” replied Angela, looking into his face quite calmly. “I can afford to be kind to you. One of the things which came to me just now in the garden was that as soon as Neville and I are together I must do everything I can for his happiness. You see, he has always done everything for me, and I’m afraid I haven’t given much thought to doing anything for him. But now you may depend upon it I shall really study Neville’s happiness; I shall be as generous as he is.” “You have already been very generous. You married him when all the world had turned against him.” “Then I shouldn’t be generous halfway. I ought to be with him and make him happy.” She sat down in the low chair in which she had read to him. It seemed to her if Isabey and she had spent hours in explanations they could not have understood each other better.