“With the moon’s beauty and the moon’s soft pace,”
and along the wild cherry lane. At the corner of the firs she paused and waved her hand to him before turning it.
When Eric reached home old Robert Williamson was having a lunch of bread and milk in the kitchen. He looked up, with a friendly grin, as Eric strode in, whistling.
“Been having a walk, Master?” he queried.
“Yes,” said Eric.
Unconsciously and involuntarily he infused so much triumph into the simple monosyllable that even old Robert felt it. Mrs. Williamson, who was cutting bread at the end of the table, laid down her knife and loaf, and looked at the young man with a softly troubled expression in her eyes. She wondered if he had been back to the Connors orchard—and if he could have seen Kilmeny Gordon again.
“You didn’t discover a gold mine, I s’pose?” said old Robert dryly. “You look as if you might have.”
CHAPTER VIII. AT THE GATE OF EDEN
When Eric went to the old Connors orchard the next evening he found Kilmeny waiting for him on the bench under the white lilac tree, with the violin in her lap. As soon as she saw him she caught it up and began to play an airy delicate little melody that sounded like the laughter of daisies.