he
darkness thick and soft as a mantle. Only he saw the anguished
happiness in her eyes as they closed beneath his kisses.

"One moment out of life," she faltered, "one moment!"

Another great wave shook the ground beneath them, but she had drawn
away. She struggled for breath. Then once more her hand was thrust
through his arm. He knew so well that his hour was over and he
submitted.

"Back, please," she whispered, "back through the plantation--quietly."

An almost supernatural instinct divined and acceded to her desire for
silence. So they walked slowly back towards the long, low house whose
faint lights flickered through the trees. She leaned a little upon him,
the hand which she had passed through his arm was clasped in his. Only
the wind spoke. When at last they were en the terraces she drew a long
breath.

"Dear friend," she said softly, "see how I trust you. I leave in your
keeping the most precious few minutes of my life."

"This is to be the end, then?" he faltered.

"It is not we who have decided that," she answered. "It is just what
must be. You go to a very difficult life, a very splendid one. I have
my smaller task. Don't unfit me for it. We will each do our best."

Her servant was waiting by the car. His figure loomed up through the
darkness. "You will come into the house for a few minutes?" he begged
hoarsely. She shook her head.

"Why? Our farewells have been spoken. I leave you--so."

The man had disappeared behind the bonnet of the car. She grasped his
hand with both of hers and brushed it lightly with her lips. Then she
gilded away. A moment later he was listening to her polite speeches as
she leaned out of the coupe. "My dinner was too wonderful," she said.
"Do make my compliments to that dear Robert and his wife. Good luck to
you, and don't rob us poor landowners of every penny we possess in
life."

The car was gone in the midst of his vague little response. He watched
the lights go flashing up the hillside, crawling around the hairpin
corners, up until it seemed that they had reached the black clouds and
were climbing into the heavens. Then he turned back into the house.
The world was still a place for dreams.

CHAPTER IV

Tallente sat in the morning train, on his way to town, and on the other
side of the bare ridge at which he gazed so earnestly Lady Jane and
Segerson had brought their horses to a standstill half way along a rude
cart track which led up to a farmhouse tucked a