aglow by the slow expending of her strength; she was happy. All other considerations she had put off until morning—all but one.
This was the star which David had pointed out to her in the east—Saturn, the star of her beautiful verse, yet the baleful star, the wandering planet of misfortune.
"That's Saturn?" she asked him, when their song was done.
"Yes."
"You're sure?"
"I know it. Why?"
She did not tell him. It might mean nothing; of course it was nothing; sensible people laughed at such ideas; yet she wished that Saturn was not the star ascendant to-night.
Dave left her side and walked alone. Sometimes, when he did this, he became drowsy while he walked and half dreamed. It seemed to him that Alice was crying and he was trying to comfort her. She seemed to be in his arms and she was shaken with sobs because some one had hurt her. He tried to comfort her; then he would realize that he could not because he was the one who hurt her.
When this roused him, he thought of his father and of Paul, the Apostle, and of the lust after the flesh of which he was accused for his desire for Alice. Now he desired, not Alice, but Fidelia and this must be lust after the flesh, if any passion was.
For in comparison with his desire for Fidelia, his love for Alice had been sober and responsible; its inception was serious and timid and it had grown, not so
