t?" pursued
Sara, laughing a little. "But it's really rather effective."

"And did you say his name was Trent--Garth Trent?" asked Elisabeth. She
had gone a little grey about the mouth, and she moistened her lips
with her tongue before speaking. There was a tone of incredulity in her
voice.

"Yes. It's not a beautiful name, is it?" smiled Sara.

"It's rather a curious one," agreed Elisabeth with an effort. "I'm
really quite longing to meet this odd man with the patchwork eyes and
the funny name."

"You shall see him to-day," Sara promised. "Audrey Maynard is giving a
picnic in Haven Woods, and Garth will be there. You will come with us,
won't you?"

"I think I must," replied Elisabeth. "Although"--negligently--"picnics
are not much in my line."

"Oh, Audrey's picnics aren't like other people's," rejoined Sara
reassuringly. "She runs them just as she runs everything else, on lines
of combined perfection and informality! The lunch will be the production
of a French chef, and the company a few carefully selected intimates."

"Very well, I'll come--if you're sure Mrs. Maynard won't object to the
introduction of a complete stranger."

Sara regarded her affectionately.

"Have you ever met any one who 'objected' to you yet?" she asked with
some amusement.

Elisabeth made no answer. Instead, she pointed to the Monk's Cliff,
where the grey stone of Far End gleamed in the sunlight against its dark
background of trees.

"Who lives there?" she asked. Sara's eyes followed the direction of her
hand, and she smiled.

"_I'm_ going to live there," she answered. "That's Garth's home."

"Oh-h!" Elisabeth drew a quick breath. "It's a grim-looking place," she
added, after a moment. "Rather lonely, I should imagine."

"Garth is fond of solitude," replied Sara simply, and she missed the
swift, searching glance instantly leveled at her by the hyacinth eyes.

When at length she took her departure, it was with a promise to return
later on with Molly and Dr. Selwyn, so that they could all four walk out
to Haven Woods together--since the doctor had undertaken to get through
his morning's rounds in time to join the picnicking party.

Elisabeth accompanied her visitor to the head of the stairs, and then,
returning to her room, stepped out on to the balcony once more. For a
long time she stood leaning against the balustrade, gazing thoughtfully
across the bay to that lonely house on the slope of the cliff.

"Garth Trent!" she mu