"Then let us walk," he suggested. "I am anxious to see all over the grounds. Aren't they splendid? Just see that cave formed by the cedars, back of the lighted path. I declare' this place looks like a real fairyland to-night."
"I am glad you like it," replied the girl. "I—er—" She clapped her dainty hand over her masked mouth. She was near to betraying her identity.
"Like it?" he repeated. "How could I do otherwise? But in all this human garden there is no fairer flower than—Rosebud," and he brought her hand reverently to his lips.
"Oh! You—you mustn't be too—too gay!" she expostulated, but she laughed as she said it. "You know the patronesses have specified—"
"There!" he exclaimed, interrupting her. "It's all right, Rosebud," and he tucked her arm within his own. "I will make love to the trees if it pleases you. But let us walk about the grounds. I am afraid the curtain will be suddenly rung down and leave us again just mortals."
Rosebud felt that it was, pretty—very pretty. She was entirely satisfied with herself and her friends. Then Adonis—wasn't he splendid? And how courteous—almost like the brave knights of old.
They approached a spot gloomy with shadows.
From it they heard voices in a gentle murmur—voices near what
Adonis had called the cedar cave.
Involuntarily, at the sound of one voice, Rosebud pressed her companion's arm. She heard some one say:
"I must go home at once—I am so frightened!"