ttle fellow,
and sat here where I sit now, then, as now, by your side, and cried at
the deeds of my forbears and sighed for the gods of the North. Do you
remember?'

'Oh, yes; oh, yes. How could I forget? You, my dear, in your bustling
life might forget; but I, day after day in this great old garden, may be
forgiven for an old woman's fancy that time has stood still, and that
you are still the little boy I love so well.'

She held out her hand to him, and he clasped it tenderly, full of an
affectionate emotion that did not call for speech.

There were somewhat similar thoughts in both their minds. He was asking
himself if, after all, it would not have been just as well to remain in
that tranquil nook, so sheltered from the storms of life, so consecrated
by tender affection. What had he done that was worth rising up to cross
the street for, after all? He had dreamed a dream, and had been harshly
awakened. What was the good of it all? A melancholy seemed to settle
upon him in that place, so filled with the memories of his childhood. As
for his companion, she was asking herself if it would not have been
better for him to stay at home and live a quiet English life, and be her
help and solace.

Both looked up from their reverie, met each other's melancholy glances,
and smiled.

'Why,' said Miss Ericson, 'what nonsense this is! Here are we who have
not met for ages, and we can find nothing better to do than to sit and
brood! We ought to be ashamed of ourselves.'

'We ought,' said the Dictator, 'and for my poor part I am. So you want
to hear my adventures?'

Miss Ericson nodded, but the narrative was interrupted. The wide French
windows at the back of the house opened and a man entered the garden.
His smooth voice was heard explaining to the maid that he would join
Miss Ericson in the garden.

The new-comer made his way along the garden, with extended hand, and
blinking amiably. The Dictator, turning at his approach, surveyed him
with some surprise. He was a large, loosely made man, with a large white
face, and his somewhat ungainly body was clothed in loose light material
that was almost white in hue. His large and slightly surprised eyes were
of a kindly blue; his hair was a vague yellow; his large mouth was weak;
his pointed chin was undecided. He dimly suggested some association to
the Dictator; after a few seconds he found that the association was with
the Knave of Hearts in an ordinary pack of playing-cards.