her perfect self-possession, a gain in her as of added strength and wisdom, and a loss in her as of gentleness outgrown and timidity overcome, dazzled him for a moment—­caused a revulsion in him which he half recognized as the beginning of a dangerous passion.  His former love for her suddenly appeared boyish and unreal to him; and this ruin of a once cherished illusion cost him a pang.  Meanwhile, there she was, holding out her hand and smiling with a cool confidence in the success of her advance that would have been impossible to Marian Lind.

“How do you do?” she said.

“Thank you:  I am fairly well.  You are quite well, I hope?”

“I am in rude health.  I hardly knew you at first.”

“Am I altered?”

“You are growing stout.”

“Indeed?  Time has not been so bounteous to me as to you.”

“You mean that I am stouter than you?” She laughed; and the sound startled him.  He got from it an odd impression that her soul was gone.  But he hastened to protest.

“No, no.  You know I do not.  I meant that you have achieved the impossible—­altered for the better.”

“I am glad you think so.  I cling to my good looks desperately now that I am growing matronly.  How is Mrs. Douglas?”

“She is quite well, thank you.  Mr. Conolly is, I trust—­”

“He is suffering from Eucalyptus on the brain at present.  Do not trouble yourself to maintain that admirable expression of shocked sadness.  Eucalyptus means gum-tree; and Ned is at present studying the species somewhere in the neighborhood.  He came here with that object:  he never goes anywhere without an object.  He wants to plant Eucalyptuses round some new works where the people suffer from ague.”

“Oh!  You mean that he is here in the gardens.”

“Yes.  I left him among the trees, as I prefer the flowers.  I want to see the lilies.  There used to be some in a hot-house, or rather a hot bath, near this.”

“That is it on our right.  May I go through it with you?”

“Just as you please.”

“Thank you.  It is a long time since we last met, is it not?”

“More than a year.  Fifteen months.  I have not seen you since I was married.”

Douglas looked rather foolish at this.  He was fatter, lazier, altogether less tenacious of his dignity than of old; and his embarrassment brought out the change strikingly.  Marian liked him all the better for it; he was less imposing; but he was more a man and less a mere mask.  At last, reddening a little, he said, “I remember our last meeting very well.  We were very angry then:  I was infuriated.  In fact, when I recognized you a minute ago, I was not quite sure that you would renew our acquaintance.”

“I had exactly the same doubt about you.”

“A very unnecessary doubt.  Not a sincere one, I am afraid.  You know too well that your least beck will bring me to you at any time.”