And as they passed along that well-remembered road, every tree, every leaf by the wayside, it seemed, spoke to him and called upon the dear memory of his two walks with her--into town and out of town, on show-day.

He wondered if his heart was to project a wraith of her before him whenever he was deeply moved, for the rest of his life.

For twice to-day he had seen her whom he knew to be so far away.

She had gone back to her friends in the north, Tom had said.

Twice that afternoon he had been momentarily, but vividly, conscious of her as a living presence.