garden, which sheltered itself
behind immensely big walls from the road which curled beyond it, and the
sea which bounded it on the northwest. Here, whatever horticultural
talent and money could procure had been lavished for four years, and
the results were beginning to show. It was a glorious mass of summer
flowers; and was the supreme pleasure of Pere Anselme. He gardened with
the fervor of an enthusiast, and was the joy and terror of the
gardeners.

They spent two hours in delightful work, and then the Cure went his
way--but just before he left for the hundred yards down the road where
his cottage stood, Sabine said to him:

"Regard well Lord Fordyce to-night, _mon pere_. It is possible I may
decide to know him very intimately some day--when I am free."

The old priest looked at her questioningly.

"You intend to remove your shackles yourself, then, my child? You will
not leave the affair to the good God--no?"

"I think that it will be wiser that I should be free soon, _mon pere_--_le
bon Dieu_ helps those who help themselves. Au revoir--and do not be late
for the Englishmen."

The priest shrugged his high shoulders, as he walked off.

"The dear child," he said to himself. "She does not know it, but the
image of the fierce one has not faded entirely even yet--it is natural,
though, that she should think of a mate. I must well examine this
Englishman!"

Sabine went back into the walled garden again, and sat down under the
shelter of an arbour of green. She wanted to re-read a letter of Henry
Fordyce's, which she had received that day by the early and only post.

It was rather a perfect letter for any young woman to have got, and she
knew that and valued all its literary and artistic merits.

They had had long and frequent conversations in their last three days at
Carlsbad, during which they had grown nearer and still better friends.
His gentleness, his courtesy and diffidence were such incense to her
self-esteem, considering the position of importance he held in his own
country and the great place he seemed to occupy in the Princess' regard.
And he was her servant--her slave--and would certainly make the most
tender lover--some day!

On their last afternoon, he had taken her hands and kissed them.

"Sabine," he had said, with his voice trembling with emotion. "I have
shown you that I can control myself, and have not made any love to you
as I have longed to do. Won't you be generous, dearest, and give me