"I will, since you ask, since you wish"—her voice faltered—"to please you. You will be at the Abbey to-morrow evening. And, since you say that you so—desire it, I may then hear what you have to say. Now I'll go."
"But when—where——?"
"If the night is fine, I will stroll into the gardens during the evening. You will see me when I go. On the south terrace of the Abbey there is a sun-dial in the middle of a paved Italian garden. I'll pass that way, and give you half an hour."
"Rosalind!"
"Ah, no—not yet."
Her lips sighed. She looked at him with a lingering tenderness languishing in her eyes.
"Can I help it?" he murmured, and his voice quivered with passion.
"Are you glad now?"
"Glad!"
"Good-by."