side of the little brook which flowed from the Spring of Our
Lady of the Consolation, leaned against a tree, tapping his knee with a
switch and smiling triumphantly across at her.

"Ah, cousin," he said, "you did not give me any very pressing invitation
to come again to see you at the Mas on the hillside yonder. All the more
gracious of you, therefore, to have come so far to meet me at my
favourite retreat!"

"But I--I did not know--I had no idea----" Claire stammered.

The Lord of Collioure waved his hand easily, as one who passed lightly
from a childish indiscretion.

"Of course not--of course not," he agreed, as if humouring her mood,
"how should you know? You had never even heard of the Spring of Our Lady
of the Consolation, or of its magic properties. Well, we have time--I
will explain them to you, sweet cousin Claire!"

"Oh, pray do not," cried Claire breathlessly; "I know--what they
say--what Jean-Marie says, that is. He pointed out the nest of bushes on
the hillside last night--I should not have come!"

"And he told you, I doubt not--he would not be a Collioure man if he did
not, and a good Catholic of Roussillon (which is to say a good
pagan)--that you had but to look in the well at the gloaming to see the
Predestined. Well, look!"

In spite of herself Claire glanced downwards. She stood on the opposite
side of it from her cousin Raphael, and it was with a thrill of anger
and fear that she saw his slender figure mirrored in the black pool.

"It looks like a betrothal--eh, cousin?" said Raphael, "even by your
friend Jean-Marie's telling?"

"No, no!" cried Claire desperately, "I do not believe it. It is only
because I found you standing there. Of course, you can also see me from
where you stand! It is nothing!"

"It is everything--a double proof of our fate, yours and mine, my
cousin," said Raphael softly. "The Well of the Consolation has betrothed
us. Sweet cousin Claire, there remains for me only to leap the slight
obstacle and take possession! So fair a bride goes not long a-begging!"

"No, no!" cried Claire, more emphatically, and making sure of her
retreat in case of need, "I do not want to marry. I could not marry
you, at any rate--you are my cousin!"

Inwardly she was saying to herself, "I must speak him fair to get away.
When once I am back at La Masane I shall never wander away again from
the Senora. I shall milk goats all my life--even if they butt me. I wish
it were now." Her cousin Llor