The air was sultry and, though no rain fell, ominous clouds
gathered and faint thunder pealed afar off.
"What is it? What is it, God?" she asked of the sky. But no answer came,
and at last she went out into the park and towards the tree. She had
made all her simple preparations--everything that she must take had been
put into a small bag and was safely waiting in the secret passage, ready
for her to fetch on the morrow.
Cheiron, she knew, had gone to London. Had they not said good-by on the
evening before? And his last words had made her smile happily at the
time.
"Things are changing, Halcyone," he had said, with the whimsical raising
of his left penthouse brow. "Perhaps you will not want to learn Greek
much longer with your crabbed old Cheiron in his cave."
And she had flung her arms round his neck and buried her face in his
silver beard, and assured him she would always want to learn--all her
life. But now she felt a twinge of sadness--she would indeed miss him,
her dear old master, and he, too, would be lonely without her. Then she
fought with herself.
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