"Do you want me to keep this position?" said Garda.
"Yes—no. It shall be an American Poussin—'I too have been in' Florida! Come over to the tomb, please." In his eagerness he put out his hands, took hers, and assisted her to rise; they went to the tomb. Here he placed her in two or three different positions; but was satisfied with none of them.
Margaret had made no further objections. She followed them slowly. Then her manner changed, she gave her assistance and advice. "She should be carrying flowers, I think," she suggested.
"Yes; branches of blossoms—I see them," said Lucian.
"But as for the attitude—perhaps we had better leave it to her. Suppose yourself, Garda, to be particularly happy—"
"I'm happy now," said the girl. She had seated herself on the old tomb's edge, and folded her hands.
"Well, more joyous, then."
"I'm joyous."
"I shall never finish my legend if you interrupt me so," said Margaret, putting her hand on Garda's shoulder. "Listen; you are on your way home from an Arcadian revel, with some shepherds who are playing on their pipes, when you come suddenly upon an old tomb in the forest. No one knows who lies there; you stop a moment to make out the inscription, which is barely legible, and it tells you, 'I too lived in—'"
"Florida!" said Lucian.