"I have not been hiding," she said. "I have been here."
"You are right," he said, seating himself beside her; "this is the best place; it is cool and quiet here; it is more like our woods, is it not, with the ferns and the primroses?" and at the "our" he smiled into her eyes.
"It is very lovely here," she said. "It's all lovely. How beautifully she sings!" she added, rather irrelevantly.
"Sings?" he said. "Oh, Lenore! Yes, she sings well, perfectly. And that reminds me. I have been sent to ask you to make music for us."
Stella shrank back with a glance of alarm.
"I? Oh, no, no! I could not."
He smiled at her.
"But your uncle——"
"He should not!" said Stella, with a touch of crimson. "I could not sing. I am afraid."
"Afraid! You?" he said. "Of what?"