to his very temples, and he dimly comprehended that "We are begirt with laws which execute themselves."
Celeste undressed, humming softly to herself. Her bright eyes were unusually brilliant and the color in her cheeks rivalled the roses in June. She flitted about the room, carefully folding each garment as it was removed.
Presently Eletheer, who was nearly asleep, said impatiently: "Celeste De Vere, for goodness' sake put out that light and come to bed. Don't you hear the roosters crowing?"
"In just one minute," Celeste answered, brushing out her curls.
Eletheer turned her face towards the wall and soon slept soundly.
A young girl's first love is like the bursting of a blossom after a thunderstorm. It is not yet ready to expand and though for a time the fragrance may be overpowering, it is soon lost. Celeste never sang in a minor. Sensitive, intense to a degree, a delicate child, she had always been tenderly watched over and shielded from every care. She had grown into a
