"Of course not," returned Edna irritably. "For pity's sake stop talking as if you didn't think it was a joke."
"She wasn't joking," replied John mildly, but with a conviction that smote his companion. "She was going to bottle the stuff, too."
"Of course. It is probably some sort of berry wine that she has heard of, and she wants to surprise us. It was unkind of us to watch her. Never let her know it, will you, John?"
"No; and if she gives me a drink in a few days all shall be forgiven."
Edna took a deep breath, feeling that a foolish fancied burden, such as one bears in dreams, had been lifted from her.
At the same time Sylvia's face, bending above the brew, haunted her, and the excited girlish voice echoed in her ears, bringing back her unwelcome doubts. Was it not precisely John who was destined to drink that precious wine?
CHAPTER XXIV
SYLVIA'S MYSTERY
Dunham and Miss Derwent prolonged their walk, and an hour had elapsed before they returned to the piazza. By that time Sylvia was sitting there in the moonlight with her aunt.