you think her woman's adaptability and quick imagination would help her
immensely? She wouldn't see what I, for instance, know to be ugly and
coarse; her very ignorance of the world would help her."

There was a vague, pleading look in his eyes. "Arrange it to suit
yourself," she said. "Only, I can assure you, if anything should happen to
her, it will be the--the hunter's fault."

"All right," said he, rousing himself. "That hunter, if I know him, is a
man who is used to taking risks! Where are you going?"

"I thought I heard Nicky."

They were both silent, and as they listened, footsteps, with a tinkling
accompaniment, crackled among the bushes below the canon. Miss Newell
turned towards the spring again. "I want one more drink before I go," she
said.

Arnold followed her. "Let us drink to our return. Let this be our fountain
of Trevi."

"Oh, no," said Miss Frances. "Don't you remember what your favorite Bryant
says about bringing the 'faded fancies of an elder world' into these
'virgin solitudes'?"

"Faded fancies!" cried Arnold. "Do you call that a faded fancy? It is as
fresh and graceful as youth itself, and as natural. I should have thought
of it myself, if there had been no fountain of Trevi."

"Do you think so?" smiled the girl. "Then imagination, it would seem, is