gifts of sympathy and insight which seemed indeed, at that
enveloping moment, to be mere flowers strewn upon the tide of deeper
emotions. The garden sent me a fragrance of roses; the moon sailed
higher and picked out the little kiosks set along the wall. It was
a charming, charming thing to wait, there at the portal of the
silvered, scented garden, for an idyll to come forth.

When they reappeared, Dacres and my daughter, they came with casual
steps and cheerful voices. They might have been a couple of
tourists. The moonlight fell full upon them on the platform under
the arch. It showed Dacres measuring with his stick the length of
the Sanskrit letters which declared the stately texts, and Cecily's
expression of polite, perfunctory interest. They looked up at the
height above them; they looked back at the vision behind. Then they
sauntered towards the carriage, he offering a formal hand to help
her down the uncertain steps, she gracefully accepting it.

'You--you have not been long,' said I. 'I hope you didn't hurry on
my account.'

'Miss Farnham found the marble a little cold under foot,' replied
Dacres, putting Miss Farnham in.

'You see,' explained Cecily, 'I stupidly forgot to change into
thicker soles. I have only my slippers. But, mamma, how lovely it
is! Do let us come again in the daytime. I am dying to make a
sketch of it.'

Mr. Tottenham was to leave us on the following day. In the morning,
after 'little breakfast,' as we say in India, he sought me in the