“HER GOAL IS ZION, NOT BABYLON, SIR—REMEMBER THAT!”
Chapter IV.
A Fair Apostate
She stood flushed and quick-breathing when the door had shut, he bending toward her with dark inquiry in his eyes. Before she spoke, he divined that under her nervousness some resolution lay stubbornly fixed.
“Let us speak alone,” she said, in a low voice. Then, to the old people, “Joel and I will go into the garden awhile to talk. Be patient.”
“Not for long, dear; our eyes are aching for him.”
“Only a little while,” and she smiled back at them. She went ahead through the door by which they had first entered, and out into the garden at the back of the house. He remembered, as he followed her, that since he had arrived that morning she had always been leading him, directing him as if to a certain end, with the air of meaning presently to say something of moment to him.
They went past the rose-bush near which she had stood when he first saw her, and down a walk through borders of marigolds. She picked one of the flowers and fixed it in his coat.
“You are much too savage—you need a posy to soften you. There! Now come to this seat.”
She led him to a rustic double chair under the heavily fruited boughs of an apple-tree, and made him sit down. She began with a vivacious playfulness, poorly assumed, to hide her real feeling.