Barbara thought of Jasper and her father, Eve only of herself.
When Jasper was gone, Mr. Jordan put his hand to his head. ‘I do not understand, I cannot think,’ he said, with a vacant look in his eyes. ‘You say one thing, and he another.’
‘Pardon me, dearest papa, we both say the same, that the pixy was nothing but a real boy of flesh and blood, but—there, let us think and talk of something else.’
‘Take care!’ said Mr. Jordan gloomily; ‘take care! There are spirits where the wise see shadows; the eye of the fool sees farther than the eye of the sage. My dear Eve, beware of the Raven Rock.’
Eve began to warble the air of the serenade in ‘Don Giovanni’ which she had heard the boy Watt sing.
Then she threw her arms round her father’s neck. ‘Do not look so miserable, papa. I am the happiest little being in the world, and I will kiss your cheeks till they dimple with laughter.’ But instead of doing so, she dashed away to pick flowers, for she thought, seeing herself in the glass opposite, that a bunch of forget-me-not in her bosom was what lacked to perfect her appearance in the blue-sprigged muslin.
She knew where wild forget-me-nots grew. The Abbot’s Well sent its little silver rill through rich grass towards the wood, where it spilled down the steep descent to the Tamar. She knew that forget-me-not grew at the border of the wood, just where the stream left the meadow and the glare of the sun for its pleasant shadow. As she approached the spot she saw the imp-like boy leap from behind a tree.
He held up his finger, put it to his lips, then beckoned her to follow him. This she would not do. She halted in the meadow, stooped, and, pretending not to see him, picked some of the blue flowers she desired.
He came stealthily towards her, and pointed to a stone a few steps further, which was hidden from the house by the slope of the hill. ‘I will tell you nothing unless you come,’ he said.
She hesitated a moment, looked round, and advanced to the place indicated.