The robin's note grew sweeter, fainter. The lake lap-lapped beyond the birches. Billy slipped his hand under Lydia's cheek and turned her face so that he could look into her eyes. At what he saw there, his own firm lips quivered.
"Lydia!" he whispered.
Then he kissed her again.
Lydia freed herself from his arms, though he kept both of her hands in his.
"Now," he said gently, with a smile of a quality Lydia never had seen on his lips before, "now, sweetheart, are you going to be good?"
"Yes," murmured Lydia, with the contralto lilt in her voice. "What do you want me to do. Billy?"
"I want what you want, dearest. I want the old Lydia with the vision.
Has she come back, or shall I have to look for her again?"
He started as if to take Lydia in his arms once more, but with a sudden rich little laugh, she stepped away from him.
"She's here—Oh, Billy, dearest! How could you let her wander around alone so long."
"It didn't hurt my cause any for her to miss me," answered Billy, grimly, "though I didn't realize that till a moment ago. Stop your trembling, Lydia. I'm here to look out for you, for the rest of time."