Startled by a low sound near me, I looked round quickly. A few paces from me, the ferns began to move, then a man's arm divided them, and, in the opening appeared the handsome and laughing face of Cornelius. He half sat up, leaning on one elbow, and looked at me, smiling.
"Are they gone?" he whispered.
I gave a hasty glance around. The sun had nearly set. In its warm and mellow glow, the park looked silent and lonely. Over all things already brooded the stillness of evening.
"It's all right," I said, jumping up. "Cornelius, you are tall, and could be seen a good distance, so please to be quiet."
"You don't mean to say that I am to remain here on my back?" he asked, indignantly.
"I mean that, if you get up, I shall take flight."
He fumed and fretted, but I was obdurate. On his back I made him lie, and there I kept him. When he became restless, I threatened to leave him. He submitted, muttering, "Absurd—ridiculous!" and, turning away his flushed and vexed face, he would not speak. I knelt down by him, and, smoothing his hair, asked if he did not feel comfortable, and what more he wanted. At first, I got no answer, but I stroked him into good humour, for, all at once, he snatched my hand, and pressing it tenderly to his lips, informed me he was a savage, and I an angel. I laughed, and said:
"That explains what Mr. Thornton meant by your queer looks. I have always heard that the eye of a savage has something quite peculiar."
"Queer looks!" echoed Cornelius, reddening; "the queerness is in his eyes, Daisy. But let him have his say. I have taken no vow; but I am determined—"
"Cornelius, if you will toss in that extraordinary fashion, I must go."