Cheiron held out his arms to receive the precious bundle; and he could
feel by its weight it was a marble head. It was enveloped in the
voluminous folds of the remains of an old blue silk curtain, a relic of
other days, when rich stuffs hung before the windows of La Sarthe Chase.

"I took the covering from the Spanish Chest in the long gallery,"
Halcyone announced. "I had played with it for years, and the color suits
her--it must be the same as are her real eyes."

Then she darted out into the sunlight and returned again in a few
moments--with shining face. All was safe and the momentous hour had
come.

She took her goddess from Mr. Carlyon's arms, and walking with the
dignity of a priestess of the Temple, she preceded her master along the
tangled path.

A riot of things growing impeded each step. Roses which had degenerated
into little better than wild ones, showed late red and pink blooms,
honeysuckle and columbines flowered, and foxgloves raised their graceful
heads.

At the end there was a broken bower at the corner of the terrace, with a
superb view over the park and far beyond to the high blue hills.

This place was cleared, for Halcyone had done the necessary work
herself. It was one of her outlooks upon the world and she had even
carefully mended the cracked bench with a bit of board and a nail or
two. The table, which was of stone, still stood firmly and was quaint
and rather Greek in shape--for had not a later Timothy La Sarthe brought