Chapter 22 AT LAST.

The breeze was dead,

The leaf lay without whispering in the tree;

We were together.

How, where, what matter? Somewhere in a dream,

Drifting, slow drifting down a wizard stream.

The Wanderer.

"It is just as well," said Du Meresq, laughing, "we have not got to take him back again. The experiment of three in that birchen bark is too