“Come, Hero, let us go and meet the master.”

But Regina had not left the verandah before Mr. Hargrove came slowly towards the easy chair, walking wearily, she thought, as if spent with fatigue.

“How tired you are!  Give me your hat and cane.”

“Yes, dear—­very tired.  I had something like vertigo, accompanied by severe palpitation as I came home, and was obliged to sit on the roadside till it passed.”

“Let me send for Dr. Melville.”

“You silly soft-souled young pigeon!  These attacks are not dangerous, merely annoying while they last.”

“Perhaps a cup of tea will strengthen you?”

“Thank you, dear; but I believe I prefer some cool water.”

She brought a tumbler of iced water, and a stool which she placed beneath his feet.

“How delicious! worth all the tea in China; all the wine in Spain.”

He handed back the empty glass, and sank down in his comfortable chair.

“How did you find Mr. Needham?”

“Much worse than when I saw him last.  He had another hemorrhage to-day, and is evidently sinking.  I should not so surprised if I were recalled before to-morrow, for his poor wife is almost frantic and wished me to remain all night; but I knew you were lonely here.”

The exertion of speaking wearied him, and he laid his head back, and closed his eyes.

“Won’t you eat your supper?  It will help you; and your milk is already iced.”

“I will try after a while, when I have rested a little.  My child, you are very good to anticipate my wants.  I noticed all you have done for me, and the flowers are lovely; so deliciously sweet too.”

He opened his eyes, took the Grand Duke, smelled it, smiled and stroked her hand which rested on the arm of his chair.

Scarlet plumes and dashes of cirrus cloud that glowed like sacrificial fires upon the altar of the west, paled, flickered, died out in ashen grey; and a moon more gold than silver hung in shimmering splendour among the cloud ships, lending a dazzling fringe to their edges, and making quaint arabesque patterns of gilt embroidery on the verandah floor, where the soft light fell through interlacing vines of woodbine and honeysuckle.  With the night came silence, broken only by the subdued plaint of the pigeons in the neighbouring yard, and the cooing or a pair of pet ring-doves that slept in the honeysuckle, and were kept awake by the moonshine which invaded their nest, and tempted them to gossip.  After awhile a whipporwill which haunted the churchyard elms drew gradually nearer, finally settling upon a deodar cedar in the flower garden, whence it poured forth its lonely miserere wail.

Mr. Hargrove sat so still, that Regina hoped he had fallen asleep, but very soon he said: 

“My dear, you need not fan me.”

“I hoped you were sleeping, and that a nap would refresh you.”

He took her hand, pressed it gently, and said with the grave tenderness peculiar to him: