ft ear. Her
eyes, long in shape and set under straight, observant brows, appeared
at first sight of the same clear, light, warm brown as her hair. Her
nose was straight, rather short, and delicately square at the tip.
While her face, unlined, serenely, indeed triumphantly youthful, was
quite colourless and sufficiently thin to disclose fine values of bone
in the broad forehead and the cutting of jaw and cheek and chin.

In that silence, as she and Richard Calmady looked full at one another,
he apprehended in her a baffling element, a something untamed and
remote, a freedom of soul, that declared itself alike in the
gallantries and severities of her dress, her attitude, and all the
lines of her person. She bore relation to the glad mystery haunting the
fair autumn evening. She also bore relation to the chill haunting the
stream-side and the deep places of the woods. And her immediate action
emphasised this last likeness in his mind. When he first beheld her she
was bright, with a certain teasing insouciance. Then, for a minute,
even more, she stood at gaze, as a hind does suddenly startled on the
edge of the covert--her head raised, her face keen with inquiry. Her
expression changed, became serious, almost stern. She recoiled, as in
pain, as in an approach to fear--this strong, nymphlike creature.

"Helen," she called aloud, in tones of mingled protest and warning. And
thereupon, without more ado, she retired, nay, fled, into the
sheltering, sun-warmed interior of the Temple.

At this summons her companion, who until now had stood contemplating
the wide view from the extreme verge of the platform, wheeled round.
For an appreciable time she, too, looked at Richard Calmady, and that
haughtily enough, as though he, rather than she, was the intruder. Her
glance traveled unflinchingly down from his bare head and broad
shoulders to that pocket-like appendage--as of old-fashioned pistol
holsters--on either side his saddle. Swiftly her bearing changed. She
uttered an exclamation of unfeigned and unalloyed satisfaction--a
little joyful outcry, such as a child will make on discovery of some
lost treasure.

"Ah! it is you--you," she said, laughing softly, while she moved
forward, both hands extended. Which hand, by the same token, she
proposed to bestow on Dickie remained matter for conjecture, since in
the one she carried a parasol with a staff-like gold and tortoise-shell
handle to it, and in the other, between the first and