towers,--the next, where it stood is lonely grass and dew, not a stone
left. Ah, yes, how happy they had been; and then Antony by a heartless
chance had seen Silencieux, and in an instant their happiness had been
at an end for ever. Only a glance of the eyes and love is born, only a
glance of the eyes, and alas! love must die.

A glance of the eyes and all the old kindness is gone, a glance of the
eyes, and from the face you love the look you seek has died out for
everlasting.

"O Antony! Antony!" moaned Beatrice, as she wandered alone in those dank
autumn lanes, "if you would only come back to me for one short day, come
back with the old look on your face, be to me for a little while as you
once were, I think I could gladly die--"

Die! A tattered flower caught her glance, shaking chilly in the damp
wind, and once more she heard the whisper, "Death is coming!"

Near where she walked, stood, in the midst of a small meadow overgrown
with nettles, the blackened ruin of a cottage long since destroyed by
fire. On the edge of the little sandy lane, perilously near the feet of
the passer-by, was its forgotten well, the mouth choked with weeds and
briers.

In her absorption Beatrice had almost walked into it. Now she parted the
bushes and looked down. A stone fell as she looked, making a sepulchral
echo. What a place to hide one's sorrow in! No one would think of
looking there. Antony might think she had gone away, or he might drag
the three black ponds, but here it was unlikely any one would come. And
in a little while--a very little while--Antony would forget, or