But his strength was gone from him.
One day he walked out into the country, and his love was strong on him, so that he bowed his head, and felt weak as a child. And suddenly a scent was wafted to him on the breeze. He stood and lifted his head to meet it, and his face worked. On a little cottage red roses glowed before their time. He had seen none since he was in the old garden at Ancelles. He stretched out his arms. "I give in," he said, and he turned and retraced his steps the way he had come.
In a little sunny path amongst the roses he found her.
"My darling—my darling—I will live here always—only live with me——"
His voice broke; he could say no more.
With a little fond cry she nestled close to him.
"No, no," she whispered, "I will come away to your London as you wish."
They sat on the steps leading to the second terrace, and the water nymph seemed to smile down on them as she bent to take her dive. They sat side by side, and mademoiselle's pretty head rested against his shoulder.
