cluster of berries of a deep coral in colour formed a
beautiful contrast to the glossy dark green of the small oval leaf. But
there were also some flowers on the plant, small pure white
flowers.

"Like myrtle, just like the flower on a myrtle," she said, taking
the plant out of his hand. "And the leaves are also exactly like myrtle
leaves." Twisting the stalk round between her finger and thumb she
gazed at it thoughtfully. "The Venn myrtle." And, raising the little
flower to her mouth, she kissed it, full of delight.

"Do you still remember--that time--on the evening of our
wedding-day, do you still remember? You kissed the myrtle that had been
in my wreath and I kissed it too, and then we kissed each other.
Then--then--oh, how happy we were then." She said it very softly, as
though lost in sweet memories.

He smiled, and as she swayed towards him, with a dreamy look in her
eyes that were fixed the whole time on the little green plant, he drew
her closer and laid his arm round her. "And are we not--not"--he wanted
to say "not just as happy," but all he said was: "not happy to-day,
too?"

She did not answer, she remained silent. But then, hurling the plant
with its glossy leaves away with a sudden movement, she turned and ran
away from him blindly into the Venn, without noticing where she was
going.

"What's the matter, Kate?" He hurried after her, terrified. She ran
so quickly that he could not overtake her at once. "Kate, you'll fall.
Wait, I say. Kate, what is the matter with you?"

No answer. But he saw from the convulsive movements of her shoulders
that she was weeping violently. Oh dear, what was the matter now? He
looked troubled as he ran after her across the desolate Venn. Was she
never to get any better? It was really enough to make a fellow
lose all pleasure in life. How stupid it had been to bring her to the
Venn--real madness. There was no brightness to be found there. A
hopelessness lurked in that unlimited expanse, a terrible hardness in
that sharp aromatic air, an unbearable melancholy in that vast
stillness.

The man only heard his own quickened breathing. He ran more and more
quickly, all at once he became very anxious about his wife. Now he had
almost reached her--he had already stretched out his hand to seize hold
of her fluttering dress--then she turned round, threw herself into his
arms and sobbed: "Oh, here's both, blossom and fruit. But our myrtle
has faded and not borne fruit--not frui