re there is a
quaint fountain, the centre of four _allees_ of clipped yews.

My heart still continued to beat in a quick, tiresome manner.

"You look changed, Comtesse," Sir Antony said. "Your little face is
pale. Do you remember the night we danced together? It was round and
rosy then. Is it a hundred years ago?"

There is a something in his voice which is alluring. The mocking sound
goes out of it now and then, and when it does one feels as if one must
listen. Oh, but listen with both one's ears!

"Yes, it is a hundred years ago," I said.

"I was so sorry to hear of your grandmother's death," he continued. "I
wanted to tell you how I felt for you, but I was away in Norway, and
have only just returned. Did you think I was unkind?"

"No, I never thought at all. Grandmamma was glad to die. I knew she
could not live, but it came suddenly at the end."

"What a splendid personality! How I wish I had seen more of her! I
generally manage to seize the occasion, but fate kept you and her
beyond my reach. Why did we not all meet this time last year?"

"Oh, do not talk of that!" I cried. I felt I could not bear to
hear any more. "I am trying to forget, and to find life full of
compensations. Grandmamma and the Marquis promised me that I should."

He looked at me, stopped in the path, and bent down to a level with my
face. His eyes seemed as if they could see right through my mind then,
as on another occasion in our lives.

"Dear little white Comtesse!" he said. Almost the same words.

An emotion that is new to me happened. It was as if my heart beat in
my throat.

"We are dawdling by this fountain," I said. "Where are the woods?"

After that we were gay. He told me of many things. I seemed to see a
clear picture of the world as he talked--a light and pleasant world,
where no one was so foolish as to care for anything seriously.

One felt a donkey, to worry or grieve when the sun shone and the birds
sang!

How I enjoyed myself!

"Has Babykins chirped at you yet?" he asked, presently. "She is very
dangerous when she chirps."

"I do not like her," I said.

"Oh, you will presently. We all love Babykins. She acts as a sort of
moral mosquito in a big party. She flies around stinging every one,
and then we compare our bites and tear and scratch the irritated
places together. You will meet her everywhere--she is the only person
Tilchester takes a serious interest in."

"Are you staying here," I asked, "or did you