her white face showed.

"O Philip," she said breathlessly, "why have you frightened me so?"

He caught her hand in his own. "Come out into the garden, sweetheart,"
he said, and he kissed the hand. "Put on a dress and your slippers and
come," he urged again.

"Philip," she said, "O Philip, I cannot! It is too late. It is
midnight. Do not ask me. Why, why did you come?"

"Because I wanted to speak with you for one minute. I have only a little
while. Please come outside and say good-bye to me again. We are sailing
to-morrow--there's no doubt about it this time."

"O Philip," she answered, her voice quivering, "how can I? Say good-bye
to me here, now."

"No, no, Guida, you must come. I can't kiss you good-bye where you are."

"Must I come to you?" she said helplessly. "Well, then, Philip," she
added, "go to the bench by the apple-tree, and I shall be there in a
moment."

"Beloved!" he exclaimed ardently. She shut the window slowly.

For a moment he looked about him; then went lightly through the garden,
and sat down on the bench under the apple-tree, near to the summer-house.
At last he heard her footstep. He rose quickly to meet her, and as she
came timidly to him, clasped her in his arms.