The mother in heaven and the wife on earth will keep you safe," whispered Gladys, in her fervent voice, feeling and answering with a woman's quickness the half-expressed desire of a nature conscious of its weakness, yet unskilled in asking help for its greatest need.

Silently the two young lovers put on their amulets, and, hand in hand, went back along the winding path, till they reached the great eglantine that threw its green arches across the outlet from the wood. All beyond was radiantly bright and blooming; and as Canaris, passing first to hold back the thorny boughs, stood an instant, bathed in the splendor of the early sunshine, Gladys exclaimed, her face full of the tender idolatry of a loving woman--

"O Felix, you are so good, so great, so beautiful, if it were not wicked, I should worship you!"

"God forbid! Do not love me too much, Gladys: I do not deserve it."

"How can I help it, when I feel very like the girl who lost her heart to the Apollo?" she answered, feeling that she never could love too much.

"And broke her heart, you remember, because her god was only a stone."

"Mine is not, and he will answer when I call."

"If he does not, he will be harder and colder than the marble!"

When Canaris, some hours later, told Helwyze, he looked well pleased, thinking, "Jealousy is a helpful ally. I do not regret calling in its aid, though it has cost Olivia her pearls." Aloud he said, with a gracious air, which did not entirely conceal some secret anxiety--

"Then you have made a clean breast of it, and she forgives all peccadilloes?"

"I have not told her; and I will not, till I have atoned for the meanest of them. May I ask you to be silent also for her sake?"

"You are wise." Then, as if glad to throw off all doubt and care, he asked, in a pleasantly suggestive tone--

"The wedding will soon follow the wooing, I imagine, for you make short work of matters, when you do begin?"

"You told me to execute your wish in my own way. I will do so, without troubling Mrs. Surry, or asking you to give us your blessing, since playing the father to orphans is distasteful to you."

Very calm and cool was Canaris now; but a sense of wrong burned at his heart, marring the satisfaction he felt in having done what he believed to be a just and generous act.

"It is; but I will assume the character long enough to suggest, nay, insist, that however hasty and informal this marriage may be, you will take care that it is one."

"Do you mean that for a hint or a warning, sir? I have lied and stolen by your advice; shall I also betray?" asked Canaris, white with indignation, and something like fear; for he began to feel that whatever this man commanded he must do, spite of himself.

"Strong language, Felix. But I forgive it, since I am sincere in wishing well to Gladys. Marry when and how you please, only do not annoy me with another spasm of virtue. It is a waste of time, you see, for the thing is done."

"Not yet; but soon will be, for you are fast curing me of a too tender conscience."

"Faster than you think, my Faust; since to marry without love betrays as surely as to love without marriage," said Helwyze to himself, expressing in words the thought that had restrained the younger, better man.

A week later, Canaris came in with Gladys on his arm, looking very like a bride in a little bonnet tied with white, and a great nosegay of all the sweet, pale flowers blooming in the garden that first Sunday of September.

"Good-bye, sir; we are going."

"Where, may I ask? To church?"

"We have been;" and Canaris touched the ungloved hand that lay upon his arm, showing the first ring it had ever worn.

"Ah! then I can only say, Heaven bless you, Gladys; a happy honeymoon, Felix, and welcome home when--you are tired of each other."


VIII

Home at last, thank Heaven!" exclaimed Canaris, as the door opened, letting forth a stream of light and warmth into the chilly gloom of the October night. Gladys made no answer but an upward look, which seemed to utter the tender welcome he had forgotten to give; and, nestling her hand in his, let him lead her through the bright hall, up the wide stairway to her own domain.

"As we return a little before our time, we must not expect a jubilee. Look about you, love, and rest. I will send Mrs. Bland presently, and tell Helwyze we are home."

He hurried away, showing no sign of the ennui which had fitfully betrayed itself during the last week. Gladys watched him wistfully, then turned to see what home was like, with eyes that brightened beautifully as they took in the varied charms of the luxurious apartments prepared for her. The newly kindled light filled the room with a dusky splendor; for deepest crimson glowed everywhere, making her feel as if she stood in the heart of a great rose whose silken petals curtained her round with a color, warmth, and fragrance which would render sleep a "rapture of repose." Woman-like, she enjoyed every dainty device and sumptuous detail; yet the smile of pleasure was followed by a faint sigh, as if the new magnificence oppressed her, or something much desired had been forgotten.

Stepping carefully, like one who had no right there, she passed on to a charming drawing-room, evidently intended for but two occupants, and all the pleasanter to her for that suggestion. Pausing on the threshold of another door, she peeped in, expecting to find one of those scented, satin boudoirs, which are fitter for the coquetries of a Parisian belle, than for a young wife to hope and dream and pray in.

But there was no splendor here; and, with a cry of glad surprise, its new owner took possession, wondering what gentle magic had guessed and gathered here the simple treasures she best loved. White everywhere, except the pale green of the softly tinted walls, and the mossy carpet strewn with mimic snowdrops. A sheaf of lilies in a silver vase stood on the low chimney-piece above the hearth, where a hospitable fire lay ready to kindle at a touch; and this was the only sign of luxury the room displayed. Quaint furniture, with no ornament except its own grace or usefulness, gave the place a homelike air; and chintz hangings, fresh and delicate as green leaves scattered upon snow could make them, seemed to shut out the world, securing the sweet privacy a happy woman loves.

Gladys felt this instantly, and, lifting her hand to draw the pretty draperies yet closer, discovered a new surprise, which touched her to the heart. Instead of looking out into the darkness of the autumn night, she found a little woodland nook imprisoned between the glass-door and the deep window beyond. A veritable bit of the forest, with slender ferns nodding in their sleep, hardy vines climbing up a lichened stump to show their scarlet berries, pine-needles pricking through the moss, rough arbutus leaves hiding coyly till spring should freshen their russet edges, acorns looking as if just dropped by some busy squirrel, and all manner of humble weeds, growing here as happily as when they carpeted the wood for any careless foot to tread upon.

These dear familiar things were as grateful to Gladys as the sight of friendly faces; and, throwing wide the doors, she knelt down to breathe with childish eagerness the damp, fresh odors that came out to meet her.

"How sweet of him to make such a lovely nest for me, and then slip away before I could thank him," thought the tender-hearted creature, with tears in the eyes that dwelt delightedly upon the tremulous maiden-hair bending to her touch, and the sturdy grasses waking up in this new summer.

A sound of opening doors dispelled her reverie; and with girlish trepidation she hastened to smooth the waves of her bright hair, assume the one pretty dress she would accept from Olivia, and clasp the bridal pearls about her neck; then hastened down before the somewhat dreaded Mrs. Bland appeared.

It pleased her to go wandering alone through the great house, warmed and lighted everywhere; for Helwyze made this his world, and gathered about him every luxury which taste, caprice, or necessity demanded. A marvellously beautiful and varied home it seemed to simple Gladys, as she passed from picture-gallery to music-room, eyed with artless wonder the subdued magnificence of the salon, or paused enchanted in a conservatory whose crystal walls enclosed a fairyland of bloom and verdure.

Here and there she came upon some characteristic whim or arrangement, which made her smile with amusement, or sigh with pity, remembering the recluse who tried to cheer his solitude by these devices. One recess held a single picture glowing with the warm splendor of the East. A divan, a Persian rug, an amber-mouthed nargileh, and a Turkish-coffee service, all gold and scarlet, completed the illusion. In another shadowy nook tinkled a little fountain guarded by one white-limbed nymph, who seemed to watch with placid interest the curious sea-creatures peopling the basin below. The third showed a study-chair, a shaded lamp, and certain favorite books, left open, as if to be taken up again when the mood returned. In one of these places Gladys lingered with fresh compassion stirring at her heart, though it looked the least inviting of them all. Behind the curtains of a window looking out upon the broad street on which the mansion faced stood a single chair, and nothing more.

"He shall not be so lonely now, if I can interest or amuse him," thought Gladys, as she looked at the worn spot in the carpet, the crumpled cushion on the window-ledge; mute witnesses that Helwyze felt drawn towards his kin, and found some solace in watching the activity he could no longer share.

Knowing that she should find him in the library, where most of his time was spent, she soon wended her way thither. The door stood hospitably open; and, as she approached, she saw the two men standing together; marked, as never before, the sharp contrast between them, and felt a glow of wifely pride in the young husband whom she was learning to love with all the ardor of a pure and tender soul.

Canaris was talking eagerly, as he turned the leaves of a thin manuscript which lay between them.