of woodland summer sounding, but the great orchestra of nature, as it were, was tuning up for the concert. Somehow the fragmentary broken sounds and scraps of summer melody strangely pleased her; often she stopped in her walk, and looked with her brilliant smile to right and left. Once she threw her arms wide, so that her red cloak stood away from her bosom, as if to take the world to it.
At last he came, and her heart embraced him ere yet he reached her. He was hatless, and the yellow gold of his hair was tossed by the wind. At the sight of him her whole being leaped towards him with stronger ecstasy than she had known yet, for the love between them seemed perfect; and she, woman-like, and loving her task, knew that a little word of comfort and sympathy was demanded of her.
' Dear one,' she said, and ' Dear one ' again. ' Poor Bertie! you look tired. You should have waited the night in London, and come down this evening.'
' Should I, when you were waiting?' he asked. ' Oh, what a morning from God! And you, Amelie, among the daffodils.'
She put her arm into his.
' Tell me,' she said, ' did you get there in time? Did your father know you?'
Bertie shook his head.
' No; he knew no one from the time of his seizure. But I am glad I went. He will be buried here on Friday.'
She pressed his arm; that sympathy of touch was more eloquent to him than words.
' And the baby?' he asked.
' Oh, Bertie, so wonderful! Nurse says he will speak in no time at all if he goes on like this. She says she never saw such a clever baby.'
Bertie laughed.
' That is a remark I never heard before,' he said.
' Then you will hear it lots of times in future,' said
