It was the middle of April. Already in sheltered corners the thin blades of grass were fringing the walks and telling mutely of the stir at their roots. The sky had an unwonted tint of blue, and occasional breezes came up from the Southland laden with the balm and spice of the new-born earth. Hooded in their green cloaks, the dandelions lifted their yellow heads and took a sly peep from their enveloping fringes. The crocuses were just ready to laugh, and the purple bells of the wild hyacinth were tinkling unheard in the soft air. The robins were hilarious in the intoxication of hope, and Elsie and Antoine were endeavoring to rival them in the ever-recurring joy and promise of the spring. They were in the garden at Idlewild; Antoine in his wheel chair, and Elsie pretending to wield a trowel around the roots of a few straggling rose bushes. She was an indifferent worker, however, for every now and then Antoine would catch the bursting refrain of some over-joyous robin, and throwing back his handsome head, would imitate it so closely as to call forth rapturous applause from Elsie and a chorus of answers from neighboring trees. Presently Elsie began to purse her red lips in a wild attempt to rival Antoine and the birds. Each attempt was followed by gay bursts of laughter such as can issue only from the lips of children and the utterly care-free.
“It is no use,” said Elsie after awhile. “I never can be a bird.”
“Then you can’t fly away from me,” said Antoine gravely, laying a thin hand upon Elsie’s cotton-gloved ones.
“Would it grieve you if I should?”
“It has been heaven since you came,” said the lad simply.
“I don’t believe you know what heaven is, if a madcap girl like me can make it for you.”
“I’ve read somewhere that ‘heaven lies in a woman’s eyes;’ but I suppose that was meant for full-grown men, not for little chaps like me. It is heaven all the same to find a companion—one who can laugh before I do. Ma mère always laughs after.”
“Did you laugh a great deal before I came?”
“No, I only laughed when ma mère was looking. I had to do it to keep the tears out of her voice. Oh, I’ve been so lonely, always thinking, thinking, and I wanted not to think.”
“Dear child, don’t let us begin now. At least we’ll put sad thoughts away. Have you found your blossom for the home circle to-night?”