yards square of the most exquisite tapestry I ever saw.

"Do you like being read to when you are at work?" I asked him.

"Sometimes,--at certain kinds of work, but not by any means always," he
answered. "Will you shut your eyes for one minute," he went on, "and,
whatever I do, not open them till I tell you?"

"You mustn't hurt me, then, or I may open them without being able to help
it, you know," I said, closing my eyes tight.

"Hurt you!" he repeated, with a tone I would not put on paper if I could,
and the same moment I found myself in his arms, carried like a baby, for
Percivale is one of the strongest of men.

It was only for a few yards, however. He laid me down somewhere, and told
me to open my eyes.

I could scarcely believe them when I did. I was lying on a couch in a
room,--small, indeed, but beyond exception the loveliest I had ever seen.
At first I was only aware of an exquisite harmony of color, and could not
have told of what it was composed. The place was lighted by a soft lamp
that hung in the middle; and when my eyes went up to see where it was
fastened, I found the ceiling marvellous in deep blue, with a suspicion
of green, just like some of the shades of a peacock's feathers, with a
multitude of gold and red stars upon it. What the walls were I could not
for some time tell, they were so covered with pictures and sketches;
against one was a lovely little set of book-shelves filled with books, and
on a little carved table stood a vase of white hot-house flowers, with one
red camellia. One picture had a curtain of green silk before it, and by its