"Straight on end for half an hour, he would have talked about his picture; and how bright his eyes would have been. And then I should have said: 'I saw it, Boy dear; and it was quite as beautiful as you say.' And he would have answered: 'It jolly well gave you the feeling of the scene, didn't it, Christo_bel_?' And I should have known that his delight in it, as an artistic success, had nothing to do with the fact that it was painted by himself. Just because egotism is impossible to him, he is free to be so full of vivid enthusiasm." She smiled again. A warm glow seemed to enfold her. "How well I know my Boy!" she said aloud; then remembered with a sudden pang that she must not call him _her_ Boy. She had let him go. She was--very probably--going to marry the Professor. She had not--with the whole of her being--wanted him to stay, until he had had the manliness to rise up and go. Then--it had been too late. Ah, was it too late? If the Boy came back to plead once more? If once again she could hear him say: "Age is nothing! Time is nothing! Love is all!" would she not answer: "Yes, Guy. Love _is_ all"? The blood rushed into her sweet proud face. The name of the man she loved had come into her mind unconsciously. It had never yet--as a name for him--passed her lips. That she should unconsciously call him so in her heart, gave her another swift moment of self-revelation. She closed the gate gently, careful not to let it bang. As she passed up the lawn, her heart stood still. It seemed to her that he must be waiting, in the shade of the mulberry-tree. She hardly dared to look. She felt so sure he was there.... Yes, she knew he was there.... She felt certain the Boy had come back. He could not stay away from her on his sixth day. Had he not said he would "march round" every day? Ah, dear waiting army of Israel! Here was Jericho hastening to meet it. Why had she allowed Ann Harvey to keep her so late? Why had she gone at all, during the Boy's own time? She might have known he would come.... Should she walk past the mulberry, as if making for the house, just for the joy of hearing him call "Christo_bel_"? No, that would not be quite honest, knowing he was there; and they were always absolutely honest with one another. She passed, breathlessly, under the drooping branches. Her cheeks glowed; her lips were parted. Her eyes shone with love and expectation. She lifted a hanging bough, and passed beneath. His chair was there, and hers; but they were empty. The Boy--being the Boy--had not come back. * * * * * Presently she went slowly up to the house. A telegram lay on the hall table. She knew at once from whom it came. There was but one person who carried on a correspondence by telegraph. _Reply paid_ was written on the envelope.