All that seemed to
have vanished. This white sylph was pure romance--pure joy. He saw her
anew; he loved her anew.
"Why did you look so pretty to-night? You little witch!" he murmured in
her ear, as he held her close to him.
"Arthur!"--she drew herself away from him. "_Did_ I look pretty? Honour
bright!"
"Delicious! How often am I to say it?"
"You'd better not. Don't wake the devil in me, Arthur! It's all this
tea-gown. If you go on like this, I shall have to buy one like it."
"Buy a dozen!" he said joyously. "Look there, Doris--you see that path?
Let's go on to the moor a little."
Out they crept, like truant children, through the wood-path and out upon
the moor. Meadows had brought a shawl, and spread it on a rock, full
under the moonlight. There they sat, close together, feeling all the
goodness and glory of the night, drinking in the scents of heather and
fern, the sounds of plashing water and gently moving winds. Above them,
the vault of heaven and the friendly stars; below them, the great hollow
of the valley, the scattered lights, the sounds of distant trains.
Pages:
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177