and the open air as he had, and he loved
the place so, every field and every tree."

"I wish I had known him then. Oh, Isabella, doesn't it seem
extraordinary to think of all that has happened in these last few
weeks? I was in such a stupid frame of mind when I came here--so
self-centred and so dissatisfied--and now, everything is changed for
me. First came all the interest and the intense pity I felt, and then,
little by little, love grew without my knowing it until it filled my
heart, and I know that whatever happens life can never be the same
again to me. It seems so wonderful that everything can be changed in a
moment. Does love always come like that? The realisation of it, I
mean. I suppose not. Oh, I am sorry for the people who have never
felt it. I can hardly believe that I am the same person who grumbled
at life being empty a little while ago, for now it is so good to be
alive." She stretched out her arms with a welcoming gesture that
seemed to embrace the whole world. Then she turned quickly.

"Forgive me, Isabella," she said with a little happy smile; "forgive me
for talking about myself, I don't know what made me do it. I think my
heart was so full it just had to come out. Now let us talk of
something else. How is the book getting on?"

"Not very well, I am afraid. I must confess it has not progressed much
the last few days; partly because I have not been quite in the mood for
it, which is a terrible confession of weakness, and partly because Mrs.
Palling has been on the war-path.

"First of all her beloved bees have been in a most unsettled frame of
mind, or so she tells me--I can't say I have seen any sign of it
myself--and she assures me that something is going to happen. At first
she felt certain that it was the arrival of a visitor for which they
strove to prepare her. I am quite sure that it must have been your
coming that is the cause of it. No one ever invaded my solitude
before, and the excitement was too much for her. But as day after day
passed and no stranger arrived, she changed her mind and is now equally
certain that the restlessness of her household gods portends some
fearful disaster. The awkward part of it is, that even she cannot make
out what form it will take; she merely tells me gloomily that something
is going to happen. She has tied a bunch of herbs over the door to
keep illness away, and she has presented me with a little stone which
she beseeches me to carry