,
but any man is restless under such circumstances. He found the morning
long, but that was natural. Long afterwards he thought of its slow
moving hours, lost in wonder that he should have caught no glimpse,
heard no whisper, while all the time, through the beauty of the scented,
summer day, the footsteps of inescapable fate drew so swiftly near.
Fortunate indeed for us that the fragile house we dwell in is provided
with no windows on the future side, and that the veil of the next moment
is as impenetrable as the veil of years.

What are they, anyway, these curious combinations of unforeseen
incidents which under the name of "coincidence" startle us out of our
dull acceptance of things? Can it be that, after all, space and
circumstance are but pieces in a puzzle to which the key is lost, so
that, playing blindly, we are startled by the _click_ which announces
the falling of some corner of the puzzle into place? Or is it merely
that we are all more closely linked than we know, and is "coincidence"
but the flashing of one of numberless invisible links into the light of
common day? Some day we shall know all about it; in the meantime a
little wonder will do us good.

It was, of course, coincidence that this afternoon Mary Coombe should
offer to gather the marguerites for Esther and that, the Saturday help
having failed to materialise, Esther was glad of the offer which left
her free to help Aunt Amy in the kitchen. It was also coincidence that
Mary should choose to wear her one blue dress and her shady hat which
looked a little like Esther's. But, given these coincidences, it is easy
to understand why the doctor, passing slowly by the field of
marguerites, felt his heart bound at the supposed sight of Esther among
the flowers.

Now that the moment had really come, his restlessness fell from him. He
felt cool, confident, happy! The world, the beautiful world, was gay in
gold and green. Over the rise, half hidden by its gentle undulation, he
caught the glint of a blue gown--

Running his car under the shade of some nearby trees, the doctor leapt
the pasture fence in one fine bound. The blue figure among the daisies
was stooping, her face hidden by a shady hat. No one else was in
sight--just he and she in all the lovely, sunny, breeze-swept earth! He
came towards her softly; called her name, but so low that she did not
hear. Then a meadow-lark, disturbed, flew up with his piercing "sweet!"
the stooping figure turned and