Allan Lyster was a wise general; he knew exactly when it was time to retreat. He would fain have lingered by her side talking to her, looking in her lovely face, but prudence told him that he had said enough. He looked across at the trees and signed to his sister, unseen and unknown to Miss Arleigh. Adelaide, quick to take the hint, joined them at once.
"I shall not show you my sketch, Allan," she said laughingly; "it will not show well by the side of yours. Marion, we must go. Have you accomplished my heart's desire—persuaded my brother to stay?"
"He did not want much persuasion," she replied, suddenly remembering with surprise how little had been said about the matter.
"I hope Allan has made no blunder," thought the sister; aloud she said, "I know it. I knew that one look from you would do all that my prayers failed to accomplish. We must go, Marion; it is time to re-enter the house."
"Miss Arleigh," said Allan Lyster, "when I wake to-morrow, I shall fancy all this but a dream. Will you give me something to make me remember that it is indeed a happy reality?"
"What shall I give you?" asked the girl.
"You have held that spray of apple blossoms in your hand all the evening," he said, "give me that."
She laughed and held it out to him.
"Thank you," he said; "now that you have touched it it ought not to die."
"Do all artists talk like you, Mr. Lyster?"