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      "Hardly at all. I was out in a boar-hunt once, near Angers, but only as a looker-on. It was a grand sight. The Duke of Beaufort came over to Brittany on purpose to join in it."No; this was no deliriumthere was a terrible reality in her words. The eyes looking up at him were not bright with[Pg 294] fever, but with the steady resolute soul withinthe soul panting for freedom from sin.

      Who yet, at least, can think of nothing wrong;


      He looked round the group and selected six men by name.

      Diva Thane and Astra Lyte went to Italy, for some years, to give Astra's genius fit food and training. The direction of its future labors was settled. She would spend her life and strength in the service of Christian art, trying to lose all thought of self in that of consecration, and counting her work successful, though it never left her studio, nor brought her either money or fame, if only it lifted the minds of those who contemplated it to a point above itself, to a loftier standard of living, a clearer conception of the beauty of holiness, a more earnest aspiration after the glory that "shall be." On her return, she brought with her a Saint Christopher that satisfied even Carice. The giant was kneeling before the Wondrous Child, who had at once so burdened him, and so strengthened him to bear; his face was full of awe and love; he recognized his Lord; he had found the King who alone was worthy of his service, and whom alone he was content to serve.

      She went off into the wood, and presently returned with his horse. He thanked her warmly and gratefully.

      "Only one little corner of France."



      "Shall we strike our tents, Isola? Are you tired of San Remo?"Mrs. Lyte's great, irregular thicket of a garden was quick to feel the genial influence, and to twine and twist itself into a denser tangle than ever. Rose bushes laughed the virtue of economy to scorn, with their perfumed affluence of pink and crimson and yellow. Pomegranates burst into scarlet flames; mimosas tossed aloft feathery balls of many hues. Jessamines and honeysuckles, holding up vases of gold, to catch every sunbeam, ran hither and thither at their own sweet will. So did tiny green lizards, with scarlet throats, and swift chameleons, with curious intelligent eyes. The air was tuneful with the flight and song of bees and humming-birds, cooing doves, and shining-winged spindles. Manifold, in truth, were the garden's delights: varied sound and color and perfume, cheerful radiance and gentle gloom, unobtrusive companionship and soft seclusion, were all to be found within its pleasant compass.


      He told everybody that Martin Disney's was an ideal householda home into which it was a privilege to be admitted.