uty. She scarcely recognized the earth upon which she trod; the
fierce excitement, the melting tenderness of her moods warred until
emotion ran riot and the sifting of her feelings became a task
impossible.

She passed the spot where, eight months earlier, Max had saluted the
flag of France. Her heart leaped, her glance, flying before her,
discovered Blake waiting at his appointed place, and all her wild
sensations were suspended.

The violently beating heart seemed to stop, the blood moved with a sick
slowness in her veins, it seemed impossible that she should go forward,
and yet, by the curious mechanism of the human machine, her feet
carried her on until Blake's presence was tangible to all her
senses--until suspense was engulfed in actuality, and joy was singing
about her in the air, a song so triumphant, so penetrating that it
drowned all whispering of doubt--all murmurs of to-morrow or of
yesterday. Tears welled into her eyes, her hands went out to him.

Standing in the full light, she was a tall, slight girl, fastidiously,
if simply dressed--veiled, gloved, shod as befitted a woman of the
world; and as he gazed on her, one thought possessed Blake. She, who
typified all beauty--whose presence was a fragrance--had called to him,
chosen him. All the romance stored up through generations welled within
him; he would have died for her at that moment as enthusiastically as
his ancestors had died for their faith. Catching her hands, he kissed
them without a thought for passing glances.

"Princess!"

The sound of his voice went through her, she laughed to break the sob
that caught her throat, she looked up, unashamed of the tears trembling
on her lushes.

"Monsieur Ned!"

"Oh, why the 'monsieur'?"

"Why the 'princess'?"

They both smiled.

"Maxine!"

"_Mon ami! Mon cher ami_!" It thrilled her to the heart to say the
words; she glanced at him half fearfully, then broke forth afresh, lest
he should have time to think. "Ned, tell me! It is true--all this? I am
not asleep? It is not a dream?"

He pressed her hands. "Look round you! It is morning."

Her lips trembled; she obeyed him, looking slowly from the cool sky to
the tree-tops, where the heavy leaves were still damp with the night's
frost.

"Yes, it is morning!" she said. "We have all the day!"

Watching her intently, he did not add, as would the common lover, "we
have many days"; she seemed to him so beautiful, so naive that her words
must compass