“No,” protested Obadiah, “I’ll build one for you.”
The moonbeams bathed the meadow and the pond in their soft light. They silvered the great bowlder left by some glacier upon the edge of this inland water. On a depression in its side sat Joe, and Virginia was at his side. Before them stretched the shadowed mirror of the pond. Opposite loomed the tree clad hill in misty gloom. The moon clothed its summit in a mantle of light, reflected the tree-broken sky line in delicate tracery upon the water below, and pushed a shining pathway to their feet.
The spell of the night held the girl. It seemed wrong to speak aloud. “Listen, Joe,” she whispered, “the world is asleep.” From the hill came the sound of a cow bell sweetened by distance. Except for this and the crickets all was still. “It’s not a bit lonely,” she sighed.
“No, not nearly as lonely as South Ridgefield after you left,” he agreed.
“Did you miss me?” She was watching the pond.
He stole a glance at the curves of her face and the flash of her eyes. It seemed to him that never since the beginning of time could there have been such another. He had lured a spirit of the night to a seat beside him. “I nearly died of loneliness,” he answered.
“You poor boy.” Her voice was rich in tenderness. “Loneliness is dreadful, Joe. I don’t want you to feel that way.” Surely this was a nymph who had stolen forth to give him sympathy.
“I was miserable every moment after you left,” he told her pathetically.
She turned her face to him, wonderful in its mysterious moonlight beauty. “Joe,” she pleaded, “you must not be sad. Knowing me must not bring unhappiness to you.”
“You must never leave me again, Virginia. When I am away from you I can’t be happy.” Now the blue eyes were drawing a marvelous power of enchantment from the moonbeams, and the black eyes were reflecting the wonder of it. Under the charm of it, he dropped his cane.