There was Prudence strolling negligently away. Just now she reached a curve in the path. She paused and turned back. She waved her hand. She sang gaily:
"Oh, Love has been a villain
Since the days of Troy and Helen,
When he caused the death of Paris
And of many, many more!"
"What good spirits Prudence has!" Carolyn exclaimed, as she reached her lover's side.
"Yes," he answered; then the eyes of the two met, and the girl drew back somewhat.
"Has anything happened?" she asked, in a whisper.
"Nothing,—nothing," he returned, and then added, violently, "I thank heaven that it's you who will be my wife,—you, you, Caro, and no one else!"
She shrank from him still more, but he caught her hands and insisted upon drawing her nearer. With her head on his shoulder she said, indistinctly: