BY MOONLIGHT
While Edgar was still frowning, and divided between consoled pride and a consciousness of guilt, a tall dark form came into sight in the moonlit landscape. It broke into a run as it neared the cottage, and with a sense of relief Edgar recognized Philip Sidney, who bounded over the piazza railing.
Catching sight of Edgar sitting alone, he spoke eagerly:—
"Has Kathleen gone anywhere?"
"No, she's there in the hammock. How did you break away so early?"
"I didn't think it was going to be easy," replied Phil half laughing, and looking toward the shadowy hammock where Kathleen in her white gown was watching him; "but we finished supper a long time ago, and—and have been talking ever since. We had told each other about everything we knew, and so I thought"—his voice trailed away—"well, I think I was homesick."
"Why didn't you bring Violet with you?" asked Edgar.
"I tried to; that is, I suggested that it was too heavenly a night to keep still, and asked her if she would like to go to walk—" As he talked, Phil kept his eyes on the white figure in the hammock and he spoke eagerly as if he were justifying himself. "But," he went on, "she said she had a headache and felt that she must excuse herself."
Edgar looked up triumphantly at the man in the moon, but he refused to see the joke. His hilarious mood had changed. He beamed down now in pensive golden serenity with the usual remote benevolence for all lovers which has won his reputation.