CHAPTER XXIII.
SAINT ELIZABETH! Love lies deeper than all words; And not the spoken but the speechless love Waits answer, ere I rise and go my way.
-- BROWNING.
When in after-years Malcolm Herrick reviewed this portion of his life, he owned to himself that during the five weeks that followed the Templeton Bean-feast he had lived in a fool's paradise--in a state of beatitude that was as unsubstantial and fleeting as the sunset clouds that piled themselves behind the fir woods.
He was very happy, almost pathetically so, and the new wine of youth seemed coursing through his veins.

"This is life," he would say to himself; "I have only existed before, but now I am reborn into a new world, and I have learned the secret of all the ages." Every day his passion for Elizabeth Templeton increased, and the charm and sweetness of her personality attracted him more powerfully.

He had never seen any one like her; she was so full of surprises, her nature was so rich, so original, and yet so womanly, that the man whom she blessed with her love could never have grown weary of her society.
Without an effort, simply by being herself, a truthful, noble-hearted woman, she had dominated his strong nature and brought him to her feet.
Was she conscious of his devotion?
This was a question that Malcolm vainly tried to answer, but her manner perplexed and baffled him.

She was always kind and friendly, and her cordial welcome never varied, but Malcolm could not flatter himself that he received any special encouragement, or that she regarded him in any other light than a trusted and valued friend.

Now and then, when he found himself alone with her, he fancied her manner had changed--that she had become quiet and reserved, as though she were not at her ease with him.