i8 THE GARDEN OF A 



led by rheumatism, the English agriculturist's latter- 

 day companion. 



In the middle of this garden, opposite my morning 

 seat, was an old stone sundial that had a strange influ- 

 ence upon me. I could watch the shadow creep 

 across its face for hours without tiring ; the half-oblit- 

 erated letters of the legend carved upon it read "I 

 only mark the sunlit hours." 



It was a good moral and a pleasant influence to 

 grow strong and readjust oneself under. Domestic 

 life flowed easily with Martha Corkle, Evan's old 

 nurse, for majordomo, and a couple of the well- 

 trained maids that cost so little there. 



For a few months Evan was boyishly happy. He 

 tramped the country-side over in visiting his old 

 haunts, and the smell of the may and cowslips made 

 his breath come short and the veins in his forehead 

 grow tense with suppressed emotion. Did you know 

 that the men of this race have a passion for flowers 

 and are knit thew and bone with the homing, soil- 

 loving instinct which they call loyalty ? The morning 

 of our wedding day, Evan laid a bunch of bride roses 

 in the branches of the Mother Tree in the garden, 

 so there are three now that understand. 



The old days cast their spell upon him, days from 

 which time had removed the sting and left only the 



