How that morning slipped away, Louis could never tell; but seated, talking to Miss Hagar, with his eyes fixed on the rosy fingers of Celeste flying with redoubled velocity to make up for what was lost, he "took no note of time," until the little clock on the mantel struck two.
"By Jove! so it is!" exclaimed Louis, horrified at his prolonged visit. "What will they think of me at home?"
"Stay and take dinner with us," said Miss Hagar, hospitably.
He hesitated, and glanced at Celeste.
"Pray do," she said, lifting her sunshiny face with an enchanting smile.
Inwardly rejoicing, he consented; and the long summer afternoon vanished as the morning had done—unnoticed.
"I fear your cottage is enchanted, Miss Hagar," he said, laughingly, as he at last arose to go; "I find it next to impossible to tear myself away from it. Or perhaps there is some magnet concealed that keeps people here against their will."
Miss Hagar smiled good-humoredly, and invited him to repeat his visit—an invitation, it is unnecessary to say, the young gentleman condescended to accept.
Celeste accompanied him to the door. As they passed out, he said:
"On this very spot we parted years ago. Do you remember that parting, Celeste?"