night. There fluttered up to
me many sounds--a temple bell, the happy call of children at play,
cheerful echoes of home-like content, the gentle gaiety of simple life.
It was for these, the foundations of the Empire, that Kishimoto San
feared ruin, with the coming of too sudden a transition.

But I forgot the man and his woes. The spell of heavenly peace that
spread upon land and sea fell like a benediction.

It crept into my heart and filled me with thankfulness that I had known
this land and its people and for all the blessings that had fallen to me
in the coming of Zura Wingate. Gratitude for my full understanding of
her was deep. If only the shadows could be cleared away from the boy I
loved, life would be complete.

Exalted by the beauty of the evening, and by my spiritual communings, I
entered my house and faced the door of the study. It was ajar.
Silhouetted against the golden light, which had so filled me with joy
and peace, stood two figures. And the man held the hands of the girl
against his breast, and looked down into her glad eyes as a soul in the
balance must look into Paradise.

It was Page Hanaford and Zura Wingate!

As quietly as possible I went around another way and dropped into the
first handy chair. The truth was as bare as a model. The force of it
came to me like a blow between the eyes. Long ago, because of
chilblains, I had adopted felt shoes. In that second of time I stood at
the door the noiseless footgear cured me of all the egotism I ever
possessed.

Now I knew by what magic the transformation had been wrought in Zura.
And the castle of dreams, built on my supposed understanding of youth
and the way it grew, was swept away by a single breath from the young
god of love. What a silly old jay bird I had been! Was that what Jane
Gray had been smiling to herself about? I felt like shaking her for
seeing it before I did.

* * * * *

At dinner Jane was the only one of the three of us without an impediment
in her silence. I was glad when the meal was over and we went to the
study.

Zura buried herself in a deep windowseat, to watch the lights on the
water, she said. When there was not another glimmer to be seen, from the
shadows came a voice with a soft little tremble in it, or possibly I had
grown suddenly sensitive to trembles: "Ursula, Mr. Hanaford was here
this afternoon."

Now, thought I, it's coming. Steadying myself I asked: "Was he? What did
he ha