kings in the sun."

At this she could not withhold a shy laugh.

"Not I, but you. You would try to get that silly book for me, and you
are dripping wet. Are you not very uncomfortable?"

In all sincerity he assured her that he was not.

"And you really do not feel that you are wet?"

He really did not: and it was a fact that he spoke truth.

She pursed her dewberry mouth in the most comical way, and her blue eyes
lightened laughter out of the half-closed lids.

"I cannot help it," she said, her mouth opening, and sounding harmonious
bells of laughter in his ears. "Pardon me, won't you?"

His face took the same soft smiling curves in admiration of her.

"Not to feel that you have been in the water, the very moment after!"
she musically interjected, seeing she was excused.

"It's true," he said; and his own gravity then touched him to join a
duet with her, which made them no longer feel strangers, and did the
work of a month of intimacy. Better than sentiment, laughter opens the
breast to love; opens the whole breast to his full quiver, instead of
a corner here and there for a solitary arrow. Hail the occasion
propitious, O British young! and laugh and treat love as an honest God,
and dabble not with the sentimental rouge. These two laughed, and the
souls of each cried out to other, "It is I it is I."

They laughed and forgot the cause of their laughter, and the sun dried
his light river clothing, and they strolled toward the blackbird's
copse, and stood near a stile in sight of the foam of the weir and the
many-coloured rings of eddies streaming forth from it.

Richard's boat, meanwhile, had contrived to shoot the weir, and was
swinging, bottom upward, broadside with the current down the rapid
backwater.

"Will you let it go?" said the damsel, eying it curiously.

"It can't be stopped," he replied, and could have added: "What do I care
for it now!"

His old life was whirled away with it, dead, drowned. His new life was
with her, alive, divine.

She flapped low the brim of her hat. "You must really not come any
farther," she softly said.

"And will you go, and not tell me who you are?" he asked, growing bold
as the fears of losing her came across him. "And will you not tell me
before you go"--his face burned--"how you came by that--that paper?"

She chose to select the easier question for answer: "You ought to know
me; we have been introduced." Sweet was her winning off-hand affability.

"Then who,