"Go back!" I repeated; "never--that is, not yet."
"But suppose anyone saw us!" she said, with a hairpin in her mouth.
"They shan't," I answered; "you will see to that, won't you, Imp?"
"'Course I will, Uncle Dick!"
"Then go you, Sir Knight, and keep faithful ward behind yon apple-tree, and let no base varlet hither come; that is, if you see anyone, be sure to tell me."
The Imp saluted and promptly disappeared behind the apple-tree in question, while I stood watching Lisbeth's dexterous fingers and striving to remember a line from Keats, descriptive of a beautiful woman in the moonlight, before I could call it to mind, however, Lisbeth interrupted me.
"Don't you think you might pick up my shawl instead of staring at me as if I was----"
"The most beautiful woman in the world!" I put in.
"Who is catching her death of cold," she laughed, yet for all her light tone her eyes drooped before mine as I obediently wrapped the shawl about her, in the doing of which, my arm being round her, very naturally stayed there, and--wonder of wonders, was not repulsed. And at this very moment, from the shadowy trees behind us, came the rich clear song of a nightingale.
Oh, most certainly the air was full of magic to-night!