It was foolish to be glad to see him again after so short a separation; I knew it, but could not help it. He, too, seemed glad; I had never seen him in better spirits; and seldom had I spent even with him, a pleasanter day. With regret, I saw approach the hour that should take me back to Poplar Lodge. Cornelius said he would accompany me by the lanes. They looked very lovely on that mild spring evening, and we talked pleasantly and happily as we walked along. At length we reached the end of a long lane that brought us to a grated iron door—the back entrance of Poplar Lodge.
We stopped short; the place and the moment stand before me like a picture still.
The lane was lonely, and hushed rather than silent. The heavy clouds of night were gathering slowly in the lower sky. In its serener heights, the full moon had risen, and now looked down at us between two of the large poplar trees that had given its name to my cousin's abode. I stood by Cornelius, one arm passed in his, his other hand clasping mine.
"When will you come back?" he asked, bending over me.
"Next Saturday, I hope."
"Not before?"
"No, Cornelius, I could not, you know."
"Can't you try?"
"Indeed, Cornelius. I am afraid I cannot. You know I long to be back with you and Kate."
"Very well, then; Saturday let it be. And yet, Daisy, why not Friday?"