The river lapped softly against the bank, and somewhere above my head the leaves rustled dismally.
"Dear little Imp, if it were only true!"
Once again the sound came to me, low and restrained, but a sob unmistakably.
On the other side of the giant tree I beheld a figure half sitting, half lying. The shadow was deep here, but as I stooped the kindly moon sent down a shaft of silver light, and I saw a lovely, startled face, with great, tear-dimmed eyes.
"Lisbeth!" I exclaimed; then, prompted by a sudden thought, I glanced hastily around.
"I am alone," she said, interpreting my thought aright.
"But—here—and—and at such an hour!" I stammered foolishly. She seemed to be upon her feet in one movement, fronting me with flashing eyes.
"I came to look for the Imp. I found this on his pillow. Perhaps you will explain?" and she handed me a crumpled paper.
DEAR AUNTIE LISBATH: (I read)
Unkel dick is going away bekors he is in luv with you and you are angry with the Blasted oke, where I hid yore stokkings if you want to kiss me and be kind to me again, come to me bekors I want someboddie to be nice to me now he is gone.
yore luving sorry IMP.
P.S. He said he would like to hang himself in his sword-belt to the arm of yonder tree and hurl himself from yon topmost pinnakel, so I no he is in luv with you.