_"I took her in my arms and held her"_

_"Many waters shall not wash out love", said Eleanor_

_He stared into the smoldering fire_

_"Look!" he said, and Miles swung about toward the ridge behind_

_"I got behind a turn and fired as a man came on alone"_

_"I reckon I shall have to ask you to not pick any more of those
roses," a voice said_

_"You see, the boat is very new and clean, Miss," he was saying_

_I felt myself pulled by two pairs of hands_




THE BISHOP'S SILENCE


The Bishop was walking across the fields to afternoon service. It was a
hot July day, and he walked slowly--for there was plenty of time--with
his eyes fixed on the far-off, shimmering sea. That minstrel of heat,
the locust, hidden somewhere in the shade of burning herbage, pulled a
long, clear, vibrating bow across his violin, and the sound fell lazily
on the still air--the only sound on earth except a soft crackle under