Page 211 (1/2)

Over the uplands, toatshadows athwart my way

The air was heavy with the perfues--a warm, still air wherein a deep silence brooded, and in

which leaf fluttered not and twig stirred not; but it was none of

this I held insoftly as

I went Yet, in a while, chancing to lifttowards h the shadows

"Why--Char my head

"Why--Peter!"

"Did you come to meet me?"

"It must be nearly nine o'clock, sir"

"Yes, I had to finish some work"

"Did any one pass you on the road?"

"Not a soul"

"Peter, have you an enemy?"

"Not that I know of, unless it be myself Epictetus says

so is!" said she, and

shivered

"Are you cold?"

"No--but it is so dreadfully--still"

Now in one place the lane, narrowing suddenly, led between high