ille and Damocles could not be said to have left the cane-chaired
group about the rustic tables and cake-stands at any given moment.
Independently they evaporated, after the manner of the Cheshire Cat it
would appear, really getting farther and farther from the circle by
such infinitely small degrees and imperceptible distances as would
have appealed to the moral author of "Little by Little". At length the
intervening shrubbery seemed to indicate that they were scarcely in
the intimate bosom of the tea-party, if they had never really left it.

"Come for a long walk, Liggy," remarked Dam as they met, using an
ancient pet-name.

"Right-O, my son," was the reply. "But we must start off mildly. I
have a lovely feeling of too much cake. Too good to waste. Wait here
while I put on my clod-hoppers."

The next hour was _the_ Hour of the lives of Damocles de Warrenne and
Lucille Gavestone--the great, glorious, and wonderful hour that comes
but once in a lifetime and is the progenitor of countless happy
hours--or hours of poignant pain. The Hour that can come only to
those who are worthy of it, and which, whatever may follow, is an
unspeakably precious blessing, confuting the cynic, shaming the
pessimist, confounding the atheist, rewarding the pure in heart,
revealing God to Man.

Heaven help the poor souls to whom that Hour never comes, with its
memories that nothing can wholly destroy, its brightness that nothing
can ever wholly darken. Heaven especially help the poor purblind soul
that can sneer at it, the greatest and noblest of mankind's gifts, the
countervail of all his cruel woes and curses.

As they walked down the long sweep of the elm-avenue, the pair
encountered the vicar coming to gather up his wife and sister for the
evening drive, and the sight of the two fine young people gladdened
the good man's heart. He beheld a tall, broad-shouldered,
narrow-hipped young man, with a frank handsome face, steady blue eyes,
fair hair and determined jaw, a picture of the clean-bred,
clean-living, out-door Englishman, athletic, healthy-minded,
straight-dealing; and a slender, beautiful girl, with a strong sweet
face, hazel-eyed, brown-haired, upright and active of carriage,
redolent of sanity, directness, and all moral and physical health.

"A well-matched pair," he smiled to himself as they passed him with a
cheery greeting.

For a mile or two both thought much and spoke little, the man thinking
of the brilliant, hated Unk