"Have you ever seen the lilies open, Aileen?"
"No, never; I've never been out early in the morning, but I've often seen them go to sleep under the starlight."
"We will row round then till they open—it's worth seeing."
The sun rose in the low-lying mists; it transfused them with crimson. It mounted above them; shot them through and through with gold and violet—then dispersed them without warning, and showed to the girl's charmed eyes and senses the gleaming blue of the lake waters blotched with the dull green of the lily-pads, and among them the lilies expanding the fragrant white of their corollas to its beneficent light and warmth....
When she left the boat his kiss was on her lips, his words of love ringing in her ears. One more of her day dreams was realized: she had given to the man she loved with all her heart her first kiss—and with it, on her part, the unspoken pledge of herself.
A movement somewhere about the house, the lowing of the cattle, the morning breeze stirring in the trees—something startled them. They drew apart, smiling into each other's eyes. She placed her finger on her lips.
"Hush!" she whispered. She was off on a run across the lawn, turning once to wave her hand to him.—And now this!
How could this then that she had just been told be true?
Her whole being revolted at the thought that he was tampering with what to her was the holiest in her young life—her love for him. In the past six weeks it never once occurred to her that he could prove unworthy of such trust as hers; no man would dare to be untrue to her—to her, Aileen Armagh, who never in all her wilfulness and love of romance had given man or boy occasion to use either her name or her lightly! How dared he do this thing? Did he not know with whom he had to deal? Because she was only Aileen Armagh, and at service with his relation, did he think her less the true woman?