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4 American Sunday Monthly Magazine Section have been full summer for the roses which great bowls were filled with, to have them for most of the year is one of Hugh’s fads and its windows, the housekeeper told us as she showed us in, looked full south. It was perfectly quiet, too, with its bath room and dressing-room next door, and Letitia in an equally comfortable apartment across the passage. “You are next to me, Letitia,” said Hugh, “so you can feel perfectly safe from burglars and ghosts in the night t” We were all so merry all the time, and 1 felt full of life and returning health, for happiness is a much greater doctor than ever /Esculapius could have been. When finally 1 did get down into Hugh’s sitting- room , at about six o’clock, he was there waitingfor me. And oh! it looked so comfortable and peaceful, with all the russet silk curtains drawn and just the big, softly-shaded lamps and the crackling and glow ing logs. And close to my sofa, which he had pre pared for me with soft cushions, was a huge bunch of deep red roses, giving forth a sweet, fresh scent. “I would not have white ones to-day, sweetheart,” Hugh said. “You are too pale yourself. And I am going to take care of you and love and worship you until they are no longer your prototype!” He was as gentle as the ten- derest nurse, and made me lie down and rest, while he sat [beside me, holding and caressing my hand, and now and then my hair; and we talked of all sorts of beau tiful things, and of our love, and of our happiness; and, finally, he read to me in a low voice, and gradu ally, worn-out with all the excite ment, I fell into a blissful sleep. When I woke he was still sit ting beside me, and his dear face wore an expression I have never seen on a human face before: it showed everything of love and de votion, and even a reverent awe. “Guinevere,” he whispered, “ while you hav e slept, I have been realizing the value of things. Darling, I do not think I ever knew before how much I loved you. And now, for this little while, I am going to lake every possible shadow out of your life. I want you to promise me that you will never let your thoughts go on ahead. I want you to be as happy as the day is long.” “Indeed 1 promise, Hugh.” Then we went up the stairs together to dress for dinner, and it seemed as if I must have always lived there—all felt so natural and at peace. After dinner, Letitia and Hugh and I sat in the morning-room, because there is a piano in it, and I wanted to play to them. I felt like that—I wanted to give forth all the thankfulness of my soul in beautiful sound. And they both sat in comfortable chairs and listened in relaxed rest and enjoyment. I made the music tell them both all of my thoughts, and once, when 1 glanced over at Letitia, I saw that her usually bright, merry eyes were gazing into distance and full of a wistful light. What was she thinking of, I wonder? Was she feeling that, what ever the pain it might' bring, love like Hugh and I have for each other was worth all the triumphs of the world? Poor, dear Letitia! But each one must dree his own weird. Hugh’s lids were closed, and a look of perfect content was on his face. No three people could be happier together than we three are. When L was following my sister out of the room, on the way to bed, Hugh detained me for a second. “My sweet,” he said. “Now you must sleep and rest completely, and grow strong here in my house; and remember, every slightest thing is to be as you wish, Guinevere—Do you understand exactly what I mean, darling child?” And a great, strange quiver came over me, and I could not meet his eyes as I answered: “Yes, Hugh.” Then, with perfect homage, he bent and kissed my hand. “My love,” he said, “good night.” And I left him standing by the fire. When 1 went down to tea Mr. Northey had arrived and was conversing with Letitia, and a sprightly air was over everything. We had the mer riest possible time, and I was joyous, and laughed, and made little sallies quite beyond my wont; and after it, I went with Hugh into his sitting-room to look for a book, and as I was bending down to get it out of the book-case, he suddenly seized me in his arms, while his eyes looked as they had looked on the river in the moonlight. “Ah!” he said—and that was all. But his lips almost burned my lips, and my heart suddenly began to beat wildly with I know not what, and I struggled away from him—but it was not from fear. Then I ran like a fawn, bounding lightly over a footstool that was near, and out of the door and up to my room, while his voice called after me in anxiety: “Guinevere!—” I cannot imagine what made me do this—human nature is very strange. I could not make myself go down again, but sat crouching by my fire, in some nameless intense excitement, until Parton came in, when the dressing-gong sounded. Chapter XVIII AY I show Mr. Northey the pic tures in the saloon, Hugh?” Letitia asked suddenly after dinner. “We can turn on the lights as we go through if they are not lit.” And she rose and went towards the door, fol lowed by both of the men. I played on all the time, my heart beating now to suffoca tion almost; and in a minute or two Hugh returned and, shut ting the door after him, came across the room. He stood beside the piano silently, looking at me with all his soul in his eyes, and my fingers would obey me no longer, but convulsively clasped together in my lap. “ Guinevere—” Hugh said breathlessly; and then, again, “Guinevere!” And something in me stronger than all other things that have ever touched my life made me rise and hold out my arms to him. I wonder if angels in heaven can be any happier than Hugh and I are. The souls of Adam and Eve in Paradise could not have been more divinely exalted or more completely necessary to each other. As the days pass, everything takes on a fresh meaning. The whole essence of life is being revealed to me through love and—My Lover. We have been too engaged with each other to take in any out side circumstance, though, vaguely and gladly, we have observed that Mr. Northey has amused Letitia, who has not been bored. We four, for a whole fortnight, have laughed and ridden, and been gay together, and all has gone well. And nothing could be more refined and careful and protective than is his attitude to me before people—the servants, and even Letitia and Mr. Northey. Not by a word or look does he suggest anything but respectful friendship. There is a great deal in breeding: it makes all the small things of life between two people move without jars. I thought of this definition of a gentleman the other morning, when some tiny exceptional circumstance cropped up. “ What is it that makes a man a gentle man? It is having that instinctive knowledge of correct behavior and high honor which does not even require an unwritten law as a guide.” It could hardly be more exemplified than it is in Hugh. Letitia and I talked together in her room at night sometimes; it seems almost as if she were changing too in this atmosphere of peace and love. She says she never really knew Hugh before, although they have been friends for ten years, and that none of her set would recognize him as he is with us now. “I said long ago that you were a witch, Guin evere,” she said. “Do you remember? I said it in play, but it is true, it would seem, because you have altered and brought out and completed this man, who is thirty-six years old, and has been spoilt and worshipped by women, ruled men, and hunted wild beasts all his life!” I laughed my contentment. “I really believe you were made for one another, and that neither of you will ever love anyone else,” she went on meditatively. “It is a thousand pities, in a case like this, that you cannot marry each other.” I felt a quiver of pain, the first one that has come. Letitia saw it, and added hurriedly: “Well, never mind, pet. After all, you are going to be happy for three months now, at least—and that is more than most women get out of life.” And my will reasserted it self and banished the pain. Dear old Doctor Burnley came to see me this morning, and said he was completely taken off his feet with surprise at my appearance. I was growing as robust as my sister, and looked like a blooming girl. “ How right you were, Doctor, to insist upon her coming up here, weren’t you?” Letitia said inno cently. “I shall tell the General how clever and sensible you have been with Mrs. Bohun.” And the doctor smiled, well pleased to accept this burden of praise. One afternoon Hugh had a fall while trying a new horse over a hurdle—he was not hurt really, but his temples ached a little. I made him lie on the sofa and put his head on my breast, while I held, petted and caressed him as though he had been a tired baby—Oh! the exquisite tenderness of the memory! “And to think that before I met you, I was grow ing callous and cynical about most subjects,” he said; “and if a thing pleased me, I took it with never a backward thought. You have been to me like an angel, Guinevere, gilding everything with your purity and your sweetness. People have such a strange idea of that word purity. For some it means a rigid barren asceticism, and consists merely in the crushing out of all sex and all warmth. For me it means the realization of sweet nature in its most elevated mood, with truth and sympathy exalted and sanctified.” “Oh! my dear—and have I meant all that to you? ” I asked. “You have meant to me everything that a woman can mean to a man, Guinevere, when she is his absolute mate.” And he folded me in his arms. A new mood has come upon us in London—a more passionate one. The ridiculous music in the comic operas even excites some sense. Hugh hates to be away from me a second, and he says he feels jealous when we go out and anyone chances to look at me, or the others of the party monopolize my attention. We are generally six—with Langthorpe and some nice woman for him, and a young man for Letitia. “I want you to come for Easter, darling; it is the fifteenth of April. My sister will be with me and her children; and Algernon and Burbridge have such a high old time together. On the Easter Tues day I have asked the same people down for the races and the ball as last year. They are only going to stay until the end of the week, but for that time, perhaps you would rather go back to Redwood. Letitia thought it would be extremely unwise not to have them for this festivity, as they are always accustomed to come, and she suggested to me last night that you should ask old Jack Kaird and her self and Langthorpe and anyone of the Bohun tribe you can think of to Redwood and we should com bine parties. What do you think of this plan? ” “It seems a good one,” I agreed. “We must get accustomed to the exigencies and obligations of life, Hugh: we cannot be in Paradise for ever, can we?— alas!” So this was all arranged, and next week I go down alone to Redwood for a few days, to settle things for this party, and then move to Minton Dremont when Algernon returns, which happens to be the Thursday before Easter; and there we shall stay until the Tuesday morning, with Lady Morvaine, going back to Redwood to be in time to receive Letitia and Langthorpe and our four other guests. But oh! the joy can never be so great again as were those short weeks of perfect freedom in Hugh’s home, with Letitia and Gerald Northey and my Lover and I—alone! My room, which I am going back to, has its real approach from the gallery and the great staircase— but we never used that way, as we were so cosy, we four, Letitia and Gerald Northey and My Lover and And something made me rise and hold out my arms to him