A Phantom of Delight

There was something very child-like about her, and yet at least eighteen sweet years must have gone to the making of her. She seemed to be playing half un- consciously, as if her thoughts were far away in some fair dreamland of the skies. But presently she looked away from “ the bourne of sunset,” and her lovely eyes fell on Eric, standing motion- less before her in the shadow of the apple tree.

The sudden change that swept over her was startling. She sprang to her feet, the music breaking in mid-strain and the bow slipping from her hand to the grass. Every hint of colour fled from her face and she trembled like one of the wind— stirred June lilies.

“ I beg your pardon,” said Eric hastily. “ I am sorry that I have alarmed you. But your music was so beautiful that I did not remember you were not aware of my presence here. Please forgive me.”

He stopped in dismay, for he suddenly

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