“Oh! do not speak of it! And yet,” he continued more seriously, still looking at May, “there are some faces that must always be beautiful; some eyes that can never grow dim.”
“I plainly perceive that age has still left you romantic, Mr. Temple.”
“You inspire me, I was going to remark, to say foolish things. But on reflection I perceive the speech lacks politeness. But how about the dew on the grass! Will it lie till ten o’clock? Do let us meet in Fern Dene to-morrow morning, Miss Churchill, at ten o’clock to see?”
“How can you be there so early?” smiled May.
“I would rise with the lark, I would soar, I would do anything, if you will go.”
“It would be fun, certainly. Very well, if you will be there by ten, I will, but I do not expect to find you.”
“We shall see,” said John Temple, fervently.
“Yes, we shall see,” answered May, with a gay little laugh. “And now good-by, Mr. Temple.”
They shook hands and each went their separate way, thinking of the other. May Churchill was amused, excited, and flattered. How much more agreeable was this well-bred man, she was thinking, than country-bred young Henderson. In truth the Mayflower had never taken very kindly to this admirer of hers. But her father often invited Henderson to Woodside Farm, and his shrewd eyes were not blind to the young man’s love for his pretty daughter. The squire of Stourton Grange was a good match for May, Mr. Churchill had decided in his practical way, and certain ulterior views of his own made him wish to see May married.