198 GARRYOWEN 



" They used to do that at cricket matches long 

 ago to score the runs. I've seen an old rustic 

 Johnny — they said he was a hundred and four — 

 doing it — " 



" Let's stop here for a moment," said the girl. 

 They had reached the little bridge on the Roman 

 road at the foot of the hill. The river, wimpHng 

 and sparkHng in the sunlight, was ahve as in 

 summer, but all else was dead — or asleep. Dead 

 leaves had blown in the river-bed and floated on 

 the water, or were massed in the crevices of the 

 stones here and there. They formed a brown 

 carpet amidst the trees of the wood; you could 

 see far in amidst the trees, whose leafless branches 

 formed a brown network against the blue March 

 sky; from amidst the trees, from here, from there, 

 came occasionally the twitter of a bird; not a 

 breath of wind stirred the branches, and the place 

 had the stillness of a stereoscopic picture. This 

 spot, so haunted by poetry and beauty in summer, 

 was never entirely deserted ; on a day Hke this it 

 had a strange beauty of its own. 



Temptation comes in waves. The all but over- 

 mastering temptation to seize the girl in his arms 

 and kiss her, which had assailed Mr Dashwood on 

 the hillside, was now returning gradually. She 

 was leaning with her elbows on the balustrade of 

 the bridge; her clear-cut profile, deHcately out- 

 hned against the trees, held him, as one is held 

 by the graceful curves of a cameo. 



Down here, to-day, everything was preter- 



