It was one of those beautiful fall evenings, calm and still, and bright with an almost intoxicating brilliancy; the heavens, the river, with its gliding banks on either side, all lighted with a radiance that was absolutely dazzling; and Star wondered if ever in all her life before she had seen the world so wondrously beautiful.
“Monday or Tuesday you are coming to Yonkers?” Star murmured, in reply to this remark of her lover’s. “I thought you were to be away from New York next week?”
“And so I am; I am coming to Yonkers to see you,” he answered, smiling. “My darling, do you not know that all the world is changed for me now?”
It certainly was for her, she thought, with a tender little smile, and then she said:
“Have you a card and a pencil? I must tell you where to find me, you know.”
“True. How stupid of me not to have thought of it,” he returned, as he searched his pockets to find what she wanted.
“I thought it better to write it than to tell you,” she said, archly, “fearing you might forget.”
“I own that I am not in a condition to remember anything to-night, save that you love me and that I have won you,” he whispered, putting pencil and card into her hand.
She wrote the street and number of the house where she lived, and gave it back to him, and he put it away without even looking at it.
And thus the moments sped swiftly on until they landed, and that delightful homeward sail was over and had become one of those events to be remembered and treasured when, in the dark future, they should look back upon it and wonder if as bright a gleam of happiness had ever really existed in their lives.