ell
him to go. His conduct was so unprecedented; no one had ever taken such
a liberty before. It was shameful that she was not more angry, for she
knew she was only trying to feel angry.

"But," he said, suddenly, as if he divined her thoughts, "we've
forgotten the fish; won't you come back and help me to carry them? I
cannot carry three trout by myself."

She was about to answer severely, but as she stood looking at him her
thoughts yielded before an extraordinary feeling of delight; she tried
in vain to collect her scattered mind--she wished to reproach him.

"Are you going to answer me, Ellen?" and he took her hand.

"Ned, are you a Catholic?" she said, turning suddenly.

"I was born one, but I have thought little about religion. I have had
other things to think about. What does it matter? Religion doesn't help
us to love one another."

"I should like you better if you were a good Catholic."

"I wonder how that is?" he said, and he admired the round hand and its
pretty articulations, and she closed her hand on his with a delicious
movement.

"I could like you better, Ned, if you were a Catholic.... I think I
could."

"What has my being a good Catholic got to do with your love of me?"

And he watched the small and somewhat severe profile looking across the
old grey wall into the flat grey sky.

"I did not say I loved you," she said, almost angrily; "but if I did
love you," she said, looking at him tenderly, "and you were religious,
I should be loving something eternal. You don't understand what I mean?
What I am saying to you must seem like nonsense."

"No, it doesn't, Ellen, only I am content with the reality. I can love
you without wings."

He watched for the look of annoyance in her face that he knew his words
would provoke, but her face was turned away.

"I like you, but I am afraid of you. It is a very strange feeling. You
ran away with a circus and you let the lion die and you went to fight
in Cuba. You have loved other women, and I have never loved anyone. I
never cared for a man until I saw you, until I looked up from the
album."

"I understand very well, Ellen; I knew something was going to happen to
me in Ireland."

She turned; he was glad to see her full face again. Her eyes were fixed
upon him, but she saw through him, and jealous of her thought he drew
her towards him.

"Let us go into the arbour," he said. "I have never been into the
arbour of clipped limes with you."

"Why do yo