feelings
were as tender and as delicate as this. He did not know, but it was this
in her, after all, which attracted him. He never attempted to analyse
the nature of his affection. It was sufficient that there was tenderness
in her eye, weakness in her manner, good nature and hope in her
thoughts. He drew near this lily, which had sucked its waxen beauty and
perfume from below a depth of waters which he had never penetrated,
and out of ooze and mould which he could not understand. He drew near
because it was waxen and fresh. It lightened his feelings for him. It
made the morning worth while.

In a material way, she was considerably improved. Her awkwardness had
all but passed, leaving, if anything, a quaint residue which was as
pleasing as perfect grace. Her little shoes now fitted her smartly
and had high heels. She had learned much about laces and those little
neckpieces which add so much to a woman's appearance. Her form had
filled out until it was admirably plump and well-rounded.

Hurstwood wrote her one morning, asking her to meet him in Jefferson
Park, Monroe Street. He did not consider it policy to call any more,
even when Drouet was at home.

The next afternoon he was in the pretty little park by one, and had
found a rustic bench beneath the green leaves of a lilac bush which
bordered one of the paths. It was at that season of the year when the
fulness of spring had not yet worn quite away. At a little pond near by
some cleanly dressed children were sailing white canvas boats. In the
shade of a green pagoda a bebuttoned officer of the law was resting, his
arms folded, his club at rest in his belt. An old gardener was upon the
lawn, with a pair of pruning shears, looking after some bushes. High
overhead was the clean blue sky of the new summer, and in the thickness
of the shiny green leaves of the trees hopped and twittered the busy
sparrows.

Hurstwood had come out of his own home that morning feeling much of the
same old annoyance. At his store he had idled, there being no need to
write. He had come away to this place with the lightness of heart which
characterises those who put weariness behind. Now, in the shade of this
cool, green bush, he looked about him with the fancy of the lover. He
heard the carts go lumbering by upon the neighbouring streets, but they
were far off, and only buzzed upon his ear. The hum of the surrounding
city was faint, the clang of an occasional bell was as music. He looked
an