"Yes," she said, "Mr. Rutlidge found me there; and I ran away through the garden. I don't like him. He frightens me. Please, is it necessary for us to talk about it any more? I had to make my confession of course, but must we talk about that part?"
"No," he answered, "we need not talk about it. It was necessary for me to know; but we will never mention that part, again. When we are back in the orange groves, you shall come to the rose garden and to the studio, as often as you like; your good genie and I will see to it that you are not disturbed--by any one."
Her face brightened at his words. "And do you really like for me to make music for you--as Mr. Lagrange says you do?"
"I can't begin to tell you how much I like it," he answered smiling.
"And it doesn't bother you in your work?"
"It helps me," he declared--thinking of that portrait of Mrs. Taine.
"Oh, I am glad, glad!" she cried. "I wanted it to help. It was for that I played."
"You played to help me?" he asked wonderingly.
She nodded. "I thought it might--if I could get enough of the mountains into my music, you know."
"And will you dance for me, sometimes too?" he asked.