In two minutes they passed out of the front door, crossed the lawn, and entered the wood by the north gate.
“Now, then, what did mamma say?” eagerly demanded Odalite, as they went along the wooded path leading to the creek.
“She says, my darling, that I may write to you all the time I am away, as I would write to my sister, if I had one; but that I must not draw you into any engagement to marry—or words to that effect,” replied Le, putting the hard case as gently as he could.
“I thought she would do that,” said Odalite, in a sorrowful and subdued tone.
“But, dearest dear! that does not prevent my binding myself to you in the most solemn manner for life and until death, and after death and to all eternity, if one may be permitted to do so. And here I swear, under this blue sky and bright moon and in the presence of high heaven, that I will be true to you, Odalite, dearest Odalite, all the days of my life in this world and in the next, forever and ever! But yet I must not bind you by any promise, darling?”
“You do not need to, Le,” she answered, sweetly and solemnly. “You do not need to bind me by a promise. You know my heart, Le. And you know that you can trust me! No word that might not pass between a brother and a sister will pass between us, for we shall know each other’s hearts, and that shall suffice and satisfy us until we meet again, shall it not?”
“Yes, Odalite! Yes, dearest dear! Until we meet again! And when we meet again, after my long voyage, by all that is holy and sacred in love and in life neither man nor devil shall part us!” warmly exclaimed Leonidas.
“Oh, you mean things!” exclaimed a merry voice behind them.
Leonidas and Odalite turned at once to see two little figures in buttoned coats and poke bonnets running toward them, followed by the dog.
“Oh, you mean things, you!” continued Wynnette, “to sneak for a walk to Greenbushes, without telling me and Elva a word about it!”