“Yes, miss.”
“Do not mention a word to any one that I have gone to the garden.”
“Not to a soul, miss.”
“There’s a good girl; I will reward you on my return.”
As she concluded, she hastened down the private staircase.
“She’s got a sweetheart, I’ll swear!” murmured Chayter reflectively. “I’ll find that out, see if I don’t that will be many a dress in my way.”
Helen hurried on tiptoe until she reached one of the parlours which had a window opening on to the lawn. She passed out thence, closing the window silently after her.
She kept upon the lawn, in the shadow of the house, for a short distance, and then pursuing a winding path, did not pause until she reached a small thicket of trees planted on the banks of a tongue of land curving the ornamental waters.
Here she stood still for a moment, and then she coughed thrice. A voice whispered, “Helen!” and she clapped her hand. The next instant there issued from the thicket a young man, who immediately placed himself at her side.
“I feared you would not come, dearest!” he said, in a low tone.