Bear Cat rose and stood courteously acquiescent, then his hostess left him and he saw another figure appear to stand framed in the door. His heart rose out of his breast into the throat and choked him, for he believed that his dreaming had unsettled his mind.
There stood Blossom with the amber light kindling her soft hair into a nimbus of radiance, and in her cheeks was the old color like the heart of the laurel's flower.
She stood slim and straight, no longer pallid or thin, and in her eyes danced a light of welcome.
"Blossom," he stammered—and she left her frame and its amber background to come forward—with her hands extended.
"Turney," was all she said.
"How came you here?" he demanded, forgetting to release her slim hands. "How did this come to pass?"
She looked out over the blue and silver leagues of the June night, and said simply. "There's lots to tell you—let's go out there and talk."
They were standing on a great bowlder where the moss and ferns grew, and about them twinkled myriads of fireflies. They had been silent for a long time and Turner's voice had a strained note as he said slowly. "I promised ye ... thet I wouldn't ever pester ye again with ... love-making ... but to-night it's right hard ter keep thet pledge."
The breeze was stirring her hair and her own eyes were deep as she gazed away, but suddenly she turned and her long lashes were raised as she met his gaze.
"I don't want ... that you should keep it," she whispered. "I give you back your pledge."