Again the sweet tangle of sounds; again the clear, perfect phrase, followed by melodious little bells. Dunham and Sylvia, motionless, continued to gaze into each other's eyes, and the girl's rapt smile stirred the man, for it was kin to the one he had surprised.
The boat glided silently toward the shore. Again the sweet flute sounded from the woods. "It is my welcome home," said Sylvia softly.
CHAPTER XXVII
MISUNDERSTANDING
A figure was standing on the bank watching the boat's approach. It was Judge Trent. His hands were clasped behind his ample black coat, but instead of the usual shade to his eagle eyes a flat earth-colored cap, with an extraordinarily broad visor, gave his sharp face the effect of some wary animal that peers from under the eaves of its home.
The young people waved their hands as they recognized him.
"Come back, have you?" he said, without moving. "It's about time."
"Were you listening to that dear thrush?" asked Sylvia, as she jumped from the boat.
"I was, and have been for half an hour. The fellow's staying powers are something marvelous."