or there--give him, doubtless, a little help."

"You are a world-man," said his friend, "which is quite different from
a worldly man! Come or go as you will, still all is your garden that
you cultivate.... Now you are thinking again of Elspeth!"

"Perhaps if for a month or two I plague her not, then when I come
again she may have a greater knowledge of herself. Perhaps it is more
generous to be absent for a time--"

"I see that you will not doubt--that you cannot doubt--that in the
end she loves you!"

"Is it arrogance, self-love, and ignorance if I think that? Or is it
knowledge? I think it, and I cannot and will not else!"

They came to the wicket, and stood there a moment ere going on by the
terrace to the front of the house. The day was now clear and vivid,
soft and bright. The birds sang in a long ecstasy, the flowers bloomed
as though all life must be put into June, the droning bees went about
with the steadiest preoccupation. Alexander looked about him.

"The earth is drunk with sweetness, and I see now how great joy is sib
to great pain!" He shook himself. "Come back to earth and daylight,
Alexander Jardine!" He put a hand, large, strong, and shapely, over
Mrs. Alison's slender ivory one. "She, too, has long fingers, though
her hand is brown. But it is an artist hand--a picture hand--a
thoughtful hand."

Mrs. Alison laughed, but her eyes were tender over him. "Oh, man! what
a great forest--what an ever-rising song--is this same thing you're
feeling! And so old--and so fire-new!" They walked along the terrace
to the porch. "They're bringing you Black Alan to ride away upon. But
you'll come again as soon as Ian's here?"

"Yes, of course. You may be assured that if he is free of that Stewart
coil--or if he is in it only so deep that he may yet free himself--I
shall say all that I can to keep him free or to urge him forth. Not
for much would I see Ian take ship in that attempt!"

"No!... I have been reading the Book of Daniel. Do you know what Ian
is like to me? He is like some great lord--a prince or governor--in
the court maybe of Belshazzar, or Darius the Mede, or Cyrus the
Persian--in that hot and stately land of golden images and old rivers
and the sound of the cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, and
dulcimer and all kinds of music. He must serve his tyrant--and yet
Daniel, kneeling in his house, in his chamber, with the windows open
toward Jerusalem, might hear a cry to hold his name in his praye