“Your eyes betrayed you,” he answered, while she blushed, “they often tell tales, but I have noticed they always tell the truth, and I knew they would never have told me some secrets that they have, if there was any one else you cared for.”
The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted their conversation, and brought them back to the common, every-day affairs of life, and turning, they saw Rutherford coming up the path from the lake, where he had gone for a stroll.
“Hello, Houston!” exclaimed the latter, catching a glimpse of his friend, “when did you come? Well, I’m awfully glad you’ve got back, we’ve missed you, old fellow, I can tell you.”
“Welcome home!” said a sweet voice, and Houston saw the starry eyes and golden crowned head of Lyle framed in the door-way, and hastened to greet her. She met him with a woman’s grace, and with a child’s affection looking frankly out of her lovely eyes. After his brief absence, Houston was impressed by her beauty as never before. “I didn’t know the child was so beautiful,” he thought to himself, “I believe she grows lovelier every day, and she reminds me strangely of some one I have seen long ago.”
“Oh, by the way,” said Rutherford, as the friends seated themselves around the dinner table, “I’ve just received a letter from my brother, and he says he is coming out here.”
“Your brother!” exclaimed Miss Gladden and Houston, “What! coming here among the mountains?”
“Yes,” he replied, “he happened to be in New York when Van Dorn got back, and from his description of the place, and mine, he says he would like to see it. He is coming out to the coast by another route, and wants me to meet him in San Francisco, and then we will stop here on our return.”
“Then you are coming back again,” said Miss Gladden; “that will be lovely, and we will be delighted to meet your brother with you.”
“Indeed we will,” added Houston cordially, “what time do you expect to be here, Ned?”
“My brother wants to get here, he says, in about six or eight weeks, so it will probably be some time in August.”