“Your drinking would only grieve him; it would not tempt him. Did you persuade him to dance?”
“He persuaded me to go into the conservatory with him, instead. I did not really care to dance. It was nicer to listen to Antony. Well, we are going away the day after to-morrow, and then, ‘When shall we 95 two meet again?’ How soon can you come to New York?”
“It will not be soon, Rose. There are so many things to look after that only I understand. Father is lost without me, especially in the winter. In the summer, he has his garden.”
“Where is Antony this afternoon? I expected to find him at home.”
“Just before you came, I saw father and Antony drive away in the buggy. Remove your bonnet and cloak, and take tea with us. They are sure to be back by tea-time.”
“Thank you for the invitation. I was just going to ask you to ask me. I will stay. It will be dark after tea; but then, Antony can drive me home.”
“Antony can drive you home. And you know there will be plenty of moonlight.”
“Do you remember that exquisite moonlight night last August, when we sent the carriage home, and you and Harry, and I and Antony, walked together through the woods? The air was full of the resinous odor of the pines, and it was sweeter than a rose garden. And the moonlight was like—I do not know what it was like, Yanna.”
“Like the moonlight of ‘The Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ If we had not unpeopled the fairy world, we could that night have believed in Peas-Blossom and Mustard Seed. Could we not, Rose?”
Rose sighed. “It was during that walk I began to love Antony. What heavenly murmurings there were in the pine tops! and we stood still to hear a little bird repeating its song in its dream. And the sound of the waterfall! And the brush of the owlet’s wing in the darksome path! Do you remember, Yanna?”