"What a wild creature! Would you have me send such a message to Lester, child? He would think me jesting with him."
"No, never. Is it not just what you want to say—what you feel—what you wish, above all things, he should know you feel?"
"Yes, indeed, Grace," she replied, with the most ingenuous naïveté.
"Then it shall go. Give me the token. Nay, part not with it so reluctantly; 'twill soon be back, with a prize worth a thousand of it. Give it me, coz. Nay, then, kiss it! and so will I."
"No, you shall not!" cried Kate, with laughing earnestness.
"Oh, I do hope I never shall be in love!" said Grace, getting possession of the locket. "Here is pencil and paper. Can you write by this moonlight? Lovers, methinks, should write by no other light." She spread the paper on the window as she spoke.
"Write! what do you mean, Grace?" exclaimed Kate, with surprise.
"I mean for you to put down, in your nicest hand, my gem of a message to Robert."
"Never, Grace. What will he think of me?"
"He will think you love him very much."