Down the dear old shady lane.
Future years may bring us sorrow
That our hearts but little know;
Still of care we should not borrow—
Come and kiss me ere I go.
“‘Ah, Little Sweetheart, come and kiss me,
Whisper to me sweet and low;
Tell me that your heart will miss me
As I wander to and fro.’”
Lord Stuart’s eyes had never left Thea’s pale, startled face although he pretended to be looking over an evening paper. He saw that the lovely girl was struggling with some deep, overmastering agitation. Her lips were parted eagerly, her cheeks pale, her dilated blue eyes were fixed on Lady Edith with an expression of wistful yearning, and the small white hands clasped each other tightly upon her knee.