it for more than a long year," says Sir James. "I
think all my life, unconsciously, I have loved you."

"For so long?" she says, softly; and then, "How faithful you have
been!"

"When change itself can give no more,
'Tis easy to be true,"

quotes he, tenderly; and then she goes nearer to him,--tears in her
eyes.

"You are too good for me," she says.

"Darling," says Scrope, and after that, somehow, it seems but a little
thing that his arms should close around her, and that her head should
lie contentedly upon his shoulder.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

"There is no life on earth but being in love!"--BEN JONSON.

"Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round;
Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound;
And he, amidst his frolic play,
As if he would the charming air repay,
Shook thousand odors from his dewy wing."--COLLINS.

It is the afternoon of the same day, and Dorian, with a keeper behind
him, is trudging through the woods of Hythe, two trusty setters at his
heels. He cannot be said to be altogether unhappy, because he has had
a real good day with his gun, as his bag can testify, and, be a man
never so disturbed by conflicting emotions, be he five fathoms deep in
a hopeless attachment, still he will tramp through his heather, or
ride to hounds, or smoke his favorite cigars, with the best, and find,
indeed, pleasure therein. For, truly,--

"Man's love is of man's life a thing apart;
'Tis woman's whole existence."

The sun is sinking to rest; the chill of a spring evening is in the
air. Dismissing the man who holds his bag, he sends him home to the
house by a nearer route, and, lighting a fresh cigar, follows the path
that leads through the fragrant wood into the grounds of Sartoris. The
breath of the bluebells is already scenting the air; the ferns are
growing thick and strong. He has come to a turn, that is all formed of
rock, and is somewhat abrupt, because of the sharp angle that belongs
to it, over which hart's-tongues and other graceful weeds fall lazily,
when, at a little distance from him, he sees Georgie sitting on the
fallen trunk of a tree, her head leaning against an oak, her whole
expression full of deep dejection.

As he comes nearer to her, he can see that she has been crying, and
that even now two tears are lying heavily upon her cheeks.

A troubled expression crosses his face. She looks so childish, so
helpless, with her hat upon the ground beside her, and