The Birmingham age-herald., 1908-08-30

cushion of green leaves, one hand clenched to her breast and the other by her side; her body thrown there, with all the abandonment of tired kitten that sleeps in the sun at flat full length. So still she lay he could hardly believe that she slept He stood and gazed at her. Not movement It was stiN there, in the warm wood; not hair of her loose- ly bound locks stirred. Was she asleep? Could she have tainted. A keener ques- tion pierced him suddenly. There were crines-even i'll England. One read about them in the newspapers. He came nearer stopped beside her. His hand hesitated. Could one-dare one, lay ones hand un- der the heart of strange lady, no mat ter what mad fear suddenly caught one? And he did not Know her. All he re- membered of her was her eyes, and these were shut. Perhaps he would never have known her if she had kept them shut. But, as he kneeling, stopped more near 1 ly to listen for her breathing her eyes opened and he knew her. Her eyes open ed, she smiled sleepi1y. Then It was impossible. There he stood in the wood, and there she lay, eyes closed, motonless as ever. Could one have these momentary dreams? Were woods some- times enchanted, as old tales would have one to believe? For it had certainly | eyes, smiled and then--that she had put up an arm, soft and firm through the sun-warmed linen of its sleeve, had caught him round the neck, drawn his face down to hers till he had kissed her on the lips. Incredible, impossible. And, further it had seemed to him that his
 kiss had only been given as a rejoinder, an unavoidable rejoinder.
 So he stood looking at her, and now 10 med this or not she was not dead, nor faint ing, but equally asleep. At any rate, the deep soft breathing that stirred the blue linen over her bosom the eyelids deep dropped and with never a flicker of awakening, the limp abandon of the hands told of nothing but sleep-deep sleep. Only now the pallor of her face was flushed with rose color.
 He stepped back through the quiet green and walked home through the part of the wood which was not enchanted. The warm touch of her mouth was on his all the way. But it vanished when the aunt's soft faded cheek lay against his lips and the brilliant patchwork of the Dutch gar den shut out the green woods of magic happenings. The glad dance of the leaves in the green wood paled before the father, full of glad questionings and com ments, his trembling hands stirring deep drifts of rustling leaves-notes for the new book, on all sorts of odd scraps of paper it was good to be at home where one was so loved, so desired. And he told himself that he must have fallen asleep In the woods. Certainly the girl from the Museum could never have fallen asleep there.
 Tea was served under the copper beach.
 Are you expecting any one?" Neville asked, for the cups were four. "Only Phil-your fathers secretary, l mean" said the aunt. "Ah, here she comes-'
 And of course it was the girl from the Museum who came across the lawn in her blue dress, with hat that hung from her arm by knotted strings. Neville heard the aunt speak kindly to the girl, heard his name and another name, and found himself lowing to the girl whose lips But he heard nothing distinctly, because of the horrible new certainty that sprang at him. It was true It was no vision. This girl whose eyes had haunted him among the Egyptian tombs more than once and more than twice-this demure girl who was his fath- ers secretary, this girl had really of her own free will drawn down the head of a perfect stranger with that arm now reached out for her tea cup, had drawn 1t down till the strangers lips lay on hers. | Tt was beautiful in the woods," she was saying.
 She was sitting there-talking to his aunt and his father-quietly, as if noth- ing had happened. She, who had kissed a stranger in wood. She had never thought to meet him agoin. Just the passing kiss, the moment of pale stolen fire--and now she had met him, what would she do? Nothing, she would brazen the whole thing out. Horrible But she had not been able to help blushing. It was that deep. slow-fad- ing blush that had enlightened him had shown him that 1t was no vision. that she also remembered. A burning crimson blush, over face and ears and neck and the aunt had said:
 T hope you haven't hurried dear, in this heat"
 And she had said: q didn't want to be late for tea"
 He handed bread and butter to her. She was not blushing now.
 "Oh, bother" said Neville to himself, "now all the peace and pleasure is gone. It won't be like home with a wicked little cat like that about the place."
 She was pretty, he declared, much prettier than he had thought her at the museum. Pretty, and in an open- eyed, candid-looking way that did not rhyme