CHAPTER XXIV.
AN IMPASSIONED WOOING.
"This is the very place for lovers," said Lord Vivianne.
They had reached an open piece of moorland, where the shadows of the tall trees danced on the grass, and great sheets of bluebells contrasted with starry primroses. There was a bank where the wild thyme grew, sheltered by a tall linden-tree. The birds seemed to have made their home there, for the summer air resounded with sweet song.
Lord Vivianne drew aside the fallen branch of a slender willow, that she might find room to sit down.
"The very place for lovers," he repeated.
She looked at him with a smile:
"But we are not lovers," she said; "therefore it is not the place for us."
"False logic! fairest of ladies!" he replied; "there is no knowing how soon we may become lovers, though. I feel sure we did not meet for nothing."
"Can a girl have two lovers?" she asked, looking up at him with the frank eyes of an innocent child.