It was an ideal afternoon to them both, although it meant a great deal more to Gerald than to Allison, for she was just at an age to enjoy a good time for the good time’s sake; she was standing where
“The brook and river meet,”
and had not yet awakened to the fact of a line of demarcation.
She was conscious of being very fond of her young friend, of realizing that he was more congenial to her than other gentlemen of her acquaintance, but had never paused to ask the reason why. The sacred depths of her woman’s nature had never yet been sounded, as her ingenuous manner betrayed.
The two men who watched the girl from a distance, noting her every look and gesture, realized that it would need but a word or a breath to arouse the latent fire of a deep and absorbing love, and settle her fate for all time.
Both saw the danger and secretly vowed that it must and should be avoided in the future. Adam Brewster told himself that, after to-day, Allison and Gerald should not meet again, at least, until the former was the promised wife of another; while John Hubbard swore far more radical measures—swore that Gerald Winchester should be crushed—ruined; that he should be so compromised as to character and reputation that he would never dare to declare his love for Allison Brewster, or that, in the event of such a betrayal, she would spurn him from her with contempt.
The lawn-party appeared to be a grand success. Everybody seemed to enter into the spirit of the occasion with a zest and heartiness that bespoke real enjoyment. Allison had taken pains to introduce Gerald very generally to her friends, to whom he was so attentive and kind that he soon became an acknowledged favorite, a coveted partner and cavalier, and the fair little hostess was secretly very proud of him.
After a bounteous repast had been served in another pavilion, erected for that purpose, a party was formed for a row upon the lake, Gerald heading the company as “captain.”
The boat was a handsome and commodious affair shaped like a swan, and gaily canopied with red-and-white bunting. A couple of men had been hired to do the rowing, while Gerald managed the rudder.
Everything went well until the last party were returning. A short way out in the lake an artificial island had been made. Upon this there was a charming little grotto and fountain, and an arched rustic bridge spanned the water between this pretty spot and the mainland.