Instantly Hildegarde's ruffled plumes drooped, smoothed themselves down; instead of the flashing gaze of the eagle, a dove-like look now met the quizzical gaze of the old gentleman. "Dear Colonel Ferrers!" this hypocritical girl murmured, as, standing on the verandah steps, she laid her hand gently on his arm. "Thank you so very much for driving me home. You are always so kind—to me! And—and—I want to ask one question. Can you tell me the first lines of Dryden's 'Song for St. Cecilia's Day'?"
"Of course!" said the simple Colonel.
"'From harmony, from heavenly harmony,
This universal frame began.'
Why do you—oh! you youthful Circe! you infant Medea, you—" he shook his whip threateningly.
"Good-by, dear Colonel Ferrers!" cried Hildegarde. "I am so glad you remembered the lines. Aren't they beautiful? Good-by!"
CHAPTER XVI.
GOOD-BY!
"I have come to say good-by!" cried Jack Ferrers, rushing up the steps, as Hildegarde was sitting on the piazza, with Hugh curled up at her feet. "Uncle Tom will come for me with the wagon. Oh, Hilda, it doesn't seem possible, does it? It is too good to be true! and it is all your doing, every bit. I sha'n't forget it. I say! I wish you were coming too!"