a hushed audience and a sublime andante chorus, until the CASTA DIVA is
sung--the "inconstant moon" that then and thereafter remains fixed in
the heavens as though it were a part of the solar system inaugurated
by Joshua. Again the white-robed Druids filed past me, again I saw that
improbable mistletoe cut from that impossible oak, and again cold chills
ran down my back with the first strain of the recitative. The thumping
springs essayed to beat time, and the private-box-like obscurity of
the vehicle lent a cheap enchantment to the view. But it was a vast
improvement upon my past experience, and I hugged the fond delusion.

My fears for the driver were dissipated with the rising moon. A familiar
sound had assured me of his presence in the full possession of at least
one of his most important functions. Frequent and full expectoration
convinced me that his lips were as yet not sealed by the gag of
highwaymen, and soothed my anxious ear. With this load lifted from my
mind, and assisted by the mild presence of Diana, who left, as when
she visited Endymion, much of her splendor outside my cavern--I looked
around the empty vehicle. On the forward seat lay a woman's hairpin. I
picked it up with an interest that, however, soon abated. There was no
scent of the roses to cling to it still, not even of hair oil. No
bend or twist in its rigid angles betrayed any trait of its wearer's
character. I tried to think that it might have been "Mariar's." I tried
to imagine that, confining the symmetrical curls of that girl, it might
have heard the soft compliments whispered in her ears which provoked the
wrath of the aged female. But in vain. It was reticent and unswerving in
its upright fidelity, and at last slipped listlessly through my fingers.

I had dozed repeatedly--waked on the threshold of oblivion by
contact with some of the angles of the coach, and feeling that I was
unconsciously assuming, in imitation of a humble insect of my childish