ave me my dearest hours, my most treasured
memories. He brought me from the slough of despond to the sunshine of
the east.'"

"Yes," she murmurs, quoting her favourite song:

"If you've heard the East a-callin',
You won't never 'eed naught else."

She snatches up her guitar with the light laugh of a girl.

"No, you won't 'eed nothin' else, but them spicy garlic smells,
An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees, an' the tinkly temple bells."

"Come out for a ride," says Carol, "now it is cooler."

Eleanor's face brightens, her eyes glow. He goes so frequently alone,
never even telling her the direction he has taken, and answering
shortly when questioned. His suggestion meets with her highest
approval.

"We will go by the jungle," she says. "You know my favourite road; not
past Elizabeth's hut, since her doors will be closed to me henceforth.
I shall miss her friendship when I am alone, but you must not leave me
so often now, and we will ask that nice Major Short and Captain
Stevenson to come and see us again."

"So you _are_ fond of society still," says Quinton smiling, "though you
denied it just now."

"Two congenial spirits are not 'society,'" she replies, "That word
comprises people in a bulk. But here are the horses. Doesn't Braye du
Valle look splendid? I hope if I died you would let him drag me to my
grave."

"Don't be gruesome," says Carol.

"Oh! we _must_ take the dog. Where is he? Do go and find him, dear."

"He is such a bothering little beast, we shall be better without him,"
protests Quinton. "Yesterday he nearly frightened my horse over a
precipice, flying into the bushes and fighting with some wild animal.
I don't know what it was, but he came out bitten and bleeding. He
limped home, leaving a track behind him. Something big rushed away, I
shot at it but did not hit it. I don't know how the dog escaped with
his life."

"But he is all right to-day, and I want to take him, he is always so
busy and amusing," Eleanor persists. "Besides, such a plucky little
beggar ought not to be coddled. I think you will find him in my room."

Quinton goes unwillingly. The dog and its vagaries have got on his
nerves, though he does not care to own it.

As Eleanor is waiting without she hears the sound of a horse behind,
and, turning quickly, is surprised to see a stranger riding up the
hill. A tall, handsome woman well developed, with portly shoulders and
large hands. She is riding a