that though we smiled to-day, the groan and the tear might be to-morrow’s due; the sunshine around us was pure gold, but that the clouds were mounting we knew full well.

“I must soon be gone,” she said at last. “It is a stolen meeting. I do not know when we shall meet again.”

She rose from the settle, and I rose with her, and we stood together beside the barred window. There was no danger of her being seen; street and square were left to the wind and the sunshine. My arm was around her, and she leaned her head against my breast. “Perhaps we shall never meet again,” she said.

“The winter is over,” I answered. “Soon the trees will be green and the flowers in bloom. I will not believe that our spring can have no summer.”