“Daireen,” he said at length, “is the bond between us one of love?”
There was no passion in his voice, nor was his hand that held hers trembling as he spoke. She gave no start at his words, nor did she withdraw her hand. Through the silence the splash of the waterfall above them was heard clearly. She looked at him through the long pause.
“I do not know,” she said. “I cannot answer you yet——No, not yet—not yet.”
“I will not ask,” he said quietly. “Not yet—not yet.” And he dropped her hand.
Then he rose and looked out to that star, which was no longer smothered in the splendid blue of the heavens, but was glowing in passion until the waters beneath caught some of its rays.
There was a long pause before a voice sounded behind them on the slope—the musical voice of Miss Lottie Vincent.
“Did you ever see such a sentimental couple?” she cried, raising her hands with a very pretty expression of mock astonishment. “Watching the twilight as if you were sitting for your portraits, while here we have been searching for you over hill and dale. Have we not, Mr. Glaston?”
Mr. Glaston thought it unnecessary to corroborate a statement made with such evident ingenuousness.
“Well, your search met with its reward, I hope, Miss Vincent,” said Oswin.
“What, in finding you?”