Containing the history of the breaking of the horse Devil, and relates the returning of his Grace of Osmonde from France

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As he had spoken, he had caressed softly with his hand her cheek and her crown of hair, and such was his great gentleness that 'twas as if he touched lovingly a child; for into her face there had come that look which it would seem that in the arms of the man she loves every true woman wears--a look which is somehow like a child's in its trusting, sweet surrender and appeal, whatsoever may be her stateliness and the splendour of her beauty.

Yet as he touched her cheek so and her eyes so dwelt on him, suddenly her head fell heavily upon his breast, hiding her face, even while her unwreathing arms held more closely.

"Oh! those mad days before!" she cried--"Oh! those mad, mad days before!"

"Nay, they are long passed, sweet," he said, in his deep, noble voice, thinking that she spoke of the wildness of her girlish years- -"and all our days of joy are yet to come."

"Yes, yes," she cried, clinging closer, yet with shuddering, "they were BEFORE--the joy--the joy is all to come."