CHAPTER XVII.
"Pray come to me; I am waiting for you in the garden of the Square." In those two lines, Ovid's note began and ended.

Mrs.Gallilee's maid--deeply interested in an appointment which was not without precedent in her own experience--ventured on an expression of sympathy, before she returned to the servants' hall.

"Please to excuse me, Miss; I hope Mr.Ovid isn't ill?
He looked sadly pale, I thought.

Allow me to give you your hat." Carmina thanked her, and hurried downstairs.
Ovid was waiting at the gate of the Square--and he did indeed look wretchedly ill.
It was useless to make inquiries; they only seemed to irritate him.

"I am better already, now you have come to me." He said that, and led the way to a sheltered seat among the trees.