est I walk over the stepping-stones into the
middle of the river. There is a big rock there which forms a kind of
natural arm-chair. I can sit on it, looking down the stream, and no one
can see me from the bank, for the rock rises up like a wall nearly all
the way round. To sit there is like a peep into another life; a
mermaid's life, all grey rock, and splashing foam, and soft, ceaseless
roar. When you listen to that roar from the bank it sounds harsh and
monotonous. You are on another element, you see, so it is alien to you,
and has no meaning, but on the rock you are part of the river itself.
It tells you its secrets. You can understand!"

As she finished speaking, Lilith's heavy lids lifted, and her eyes
flashed with a sudden light. There was a moment's silence; then Eve
bent forward on her seat, while a wave of colour flamed into her pale
cheeks.

"_Will you take me with you_?" she cried breathlessly. "Will you take
me _now_? There is something I am always trying to hear--a secret which
I am always trying to find out, and no one can help me. Perhaps the
river will tell me my secret... Take me with you, and let me try!"

Eve was fascinated with the rocky seat, and spent hours of each day
ensconced thereon. The river was so low that it was easy to step from
one rock to another, and Rupert would see her comfortably settled, and
then leave her to take the brisk walk over the hills which was his usual
exercise. Eve preferred to be alone for part of the day, and he had no
fear of leaving her. There had never been any suicidal tendency in her
derangement; rather did she cling to life, and shrink from the thought
of death. And the river soothed her, she said; the murmuring voice
seemed to whisper of happiness and peace, but as yet it was only a
murmur. In vain she strained her ears; the message eluded her, and
floated vaguely into space. "Louder!" she would cry. "Louder!" But
the river floated sleepily on its course, and refused to be aroused.

A week passed by, and Rupert grew restless and uneasy. Eve was still
obsessed with love of her river seat, but the strain of listening for
the message which never came added to her depression, and it irked him
to feel that she was deliberately courting a disappointment which he was
powerless to relieve.

"It can do no good," he told Lilith impatiently, "and it may do great
harm. I have been so careful to screen her from every kind of
excitement or strain, s