difficulties with a buoyancy of spirit which ultimately had its
effect upon the listener. When he was alone again, Hilliard felt
better, both in body and mind, and that evening, over the first
bottle of Narramore's port, he amused himself with sketching ideal
cottages.

"The fellow's in love, at last. When a man thinks of pleasant little
country houses, 'with a tree or two' about them----"

He sighed, and ground his teeth, and sketched on.

Before bedtime, a sudden and profound shame possessed him. Was he
not behaving outrageously in neglecting to answer Eve's letter? For
all he knew the cold of which she complained might have caused her
more suffering than he himself had gone through from the like cause,
and that was bad enough. He seized paper and wrote to her as he had
never written before, borne on the very high flood of passionate
longing. Without regard to prudence he left the house at midnight
and posted his letter.

"It never occurred to me to blame you for not writing," Eve quickly
replied; "I'm afraid you are more sensitive than I am, and, to tell
the truth, I believe men generally _are_ more sensitive than women
in things of this kind. It pleased me very much to hear of the visit
you had had from Mr. Narramore, and that he had cheered you. I do so
wish I could have come, but I have really been quite ill, and I must
not think of risking a journey till the weather improves. Don't
trouble about it; I will write often."

"I told you about a letter I had had from poor Patty, and I want to