"But Time did beckon to the flowers, and they,
By noon, most cunningly did steal away."

Heath had never gathered flowers, either as a lesson to himself or a
gift for others; they hardly spoke of careless beauty to him, they were
emblems of lightness and thoughtlessness, and Heath had no time to stop
and consider the lilies of the field.

He moved suddenly like a man who is awakened from a thought heavier than
sleep, and listened with a hunted look, the look of a man who is afraid
of footsteps; he stood up, gathering his loose limbs together and
watching the door. Steps came up the staircase, steps that stumbled a
little, and if Heath had possessed Mhtoon Pah's art of reading the walk
of his fellow creatures, he would have known that he might expect a
woman and not a man.

"Mr. Heath," a low voice called in the passage, and Heath's tension
relaxed, giving place to surprise.

The voice was strange to him, and he passed his handkerchief over his
face and walked to the door, just as his name was called again, in the
same low, penetrating voice.

"Who wants me?" he asked, almost roughly, and then he saw a tall, dark
woman standing at the top of the staircase.

"Mrs. Wilder," he said in surprise, and she made a little imperious
movement with her hand.

"I did not call your servant, I came up, because I wanted to find you