with me to the kitchen. I have given Moselle a holiday. Maria, I
have a friend--a very dear friend. I am cooking him some breakfast. Come
and help me."

Agnes spoke in a hurried, excited manner very unusual to her, and as she
did so, the two girls went into the little outside kitchen. The coffee
was ready, the steak broiled, and as Agnes lifted the food she
continued, "yes, I have a friend this morning. He is going to eat in the
summer-house, and you will help me to wait upon him. Will you not,
Maria? Oh, my dear, I am so happy!" And Maria, who remembered only too
vividly the bare-headed youth she had seen for a moment, gladly accepted
the office. A spirit of keen pleasure was in the dingy little kitchen,
and the girls moved gaily to it. "You shall carry the coffee, and I will
carry the steak," said Agnes; "the bread and the china are already
placed." So laughing and chatting, and delighted with their service the
two girls entered the summer-house.

"Harry," said Agnes, "this is my friend, Maria Semple; and Maria, this
is Harry Deane." And Harry looked with frank eyes into Maria's eyes, and
in a moment they knew each other. What was this strange impression made
by a look? Not a word was spoken, but the soul salutation through
meeting eyes was a far more overwhelming influence than any spoken word
could have evoked. Then came the current forms of courtesy, and the
happy tones of low laughter slipping in between the mingling of voices,
or the soft tinkling of glass and china, and everyone knows that as soon
as talking begins the divine gates close. It mattered not, Maria knew
that something wonderful had happened to her; and never in all her
subsequent life could she forget that breakfast under the clematis
vines.

Swiftly the hot, still hours of the mid-day passed. The city was torpid
in the quivering heat. There was no stir of traffic--no lumbering sound
of loaded wagons--no noise of shouting drivers--no footsteps of hurrying
men. The streets were almost empty; the very houses seemed asleep. Only
the cicadas ran from hedge to hedge calling shrilly; or now and then a
solitary trumpet stirred the drowsy air, or, in the vicinity of the
prisons, the moaning of the dying men, made the silence terribly vocal.

"Let us go into the house," said Agnes, "it will be cooler there." And
they took Maria's hands and went to the shaded parlor. Then Harry drew

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