As young Horton came in sight of Mrs. Fairfield's residence, he involuntarily quickened his steps. As a matter of course, he had met in his wanderings many pretty and agreeable girls, and, being an attractive young man, it is safe to say that eyes of every hue had looked upon him with more or less favor. It would be imprudent to venture the assertion that the young man had remained quite indifferent to all this, but Horton's nature was more tender than passionate; early associations held him very closely, and his boyish fancy for the widow's pretty daughter had never quite faded. A rather fitful correspondence had been kept up, and photographs exchanged, and he felt himself justified in believing that the welcome the purple violets had spoken would speak to him still more eloquently from a pair of violet eyes.
He scanned the pretty lawn with a pleased, expectant glance. Flowers were massed in red, white and purple against the vivid green; the fountain was scattering its spray; hammocks were slung in tempting nooks, and fanciful wicker chairs, interwoven with blue and scarlet ribbons, stood about the vine-draped piazza. He half expected a girlish figure to run down the walk to meet him, in the old childish way, and as a fold of white muslin swept out of the open window his heart leaped; but it was only the curtain after all, and just as he saw this with a little pang of disappointment, a girl's figure did appear, and came down the walk toward him. It was a tall figure, in a simple dark dress. As it came nearer, he saw a colorless, oval face, with downcast eyes, and a mass of ruddy hair, burnished like gold, gathered in a coil under the small black hat. There was something proud, yet shrinking, in the face and in the carriage of the whole figure. As the latch fell from his hand the girl looked up, and encountered his eyes, pleased, friendly and a trifle astonished, fixed full upon her.
She stopped, and a beautiful color swept into her cheeks, a sudden unleaping flame filled the luminous eyes, and her lips parted.
"Why, it is Lilly O'Connell!" the young man said, cordially, extending his hand.
The girl's hand was half extended to meet his, but with a quick glance toward the house she drew it back into the folds of her black dress, bowing instead.
Horton let his hand fall, a little flush showing itself upon his forehead.
"Are you not going to speak to me, Miss O'Connell?" he said, in his frank, pleasant way. "Are you not going to say you are glad to see me back, like all the rest?"
The color had all faded from the girl's cheeks and neck. She returned his smiling glance with an earnest look, hesitating before she spoke.
"I am very glad, Mr. Horton," she said, at last, and, passing him, went swiftly out of sight.