slightest opening; and he continued uncomfortably
on his way. There was a quality about that thick,
black-clad figure which cast a shadow over the
cloudless day, it blunted the anticipated pleasure of
his meeting with Meta Beggs. There was about
Merlier a smell of death like the smell of sooty
smoke.

The stream lay shining along its wooded course;
the range greenly aflame with new foliage rose into
radiant space; flickers hammered on resonant, dead
wood. Gordon banished the somber memory of the
priest. He was conscious of a sudden excitement,
a keenness of response to living like a renewal of
youth. He wished that Meta Beggs would appear;
his direction to her had been vague; she might easily
go astray and miss him. But he saw her, after
what seemed an interminable period, leaving the
road and crossing the strip of sod that bordered the
stream. She had on a white dress that clung to her
figure, and a broad, flapping straw hat wound with
white. She saw him and waved. The brush rose
thickly along the water, but there was a footway at
its edge, with occasional, broader reaches of rough
sod. In one of the latter she stooped, made a swift
movement with the hem of her skirt.

"See," she smiled; "I said you would like me in
them."

He attempted to catch her in his arms, but she

[[206]]

p205 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p206w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p207

v?