Not here, alas! though the setting would have been ideal,—a wood carpeted with primrose blossoms, birds warbling their prettiest and gayest amongst larches and slender ash, all dressed in the freshest of green robes, and, in the centre, herself,—a Queen amongst her feathered subjects, with sunshine to crown her tumbled curls, and a hat, turned basket, half filled with flowers.
Eden and the most seductive Eve, all waiting for an errant Adam!
He came. Of course he came! She knew he would at last, and smiled a welcome which set the dimples in her cheek playing at hide-and-seek in the most bewitching way.
After all she was but a child, tired of her own company, and she knew the name of her Adam though she had not seen him for three years, nor spoken to him for ten.
So she dropped him the merriest of curtsies, laughing as she watched the colour creep up under his skin at sight of her.
His own bow was formal enough, but he raised his hat with grace.
"Sure, sir, you have been long in coming," she cried, swinging her hat by its blue ribbon, and eyeing him with some show of admonition.
She was quite aware that he did not know her.
"Your pardon, mistress," stammered Michael Berrington, shame-faced as a girl. "I almost—forget——"
She checked him, clapping her hands.