Master of the Vineyard

Like a Nymph

She waited to gather a spray or two of wild crab-apple blossoms, then went home. She did not see Alden, but stopped to exchange a few words with Madame, then went on up-stairs. The long walk had wearied her, but it had also made her more lovely. After an hour of rest and a cool shower, she was ready to dress for dinner.

She chose a dinner-gown of white embroidered chiffon that she had not yet worn. It was cut away a little at the throat and the sleeves came to the elbow. She was not in the mood for jewels, but she clasped a string of pearls around her perfect throat, and put the crab-apple blossoms in her hair. The experiment was rather daring, but wholly successful, as she took care to have green leaves between her hair and the blossoms.

When she went down, Madame and Alden were waiting for her, Alden in evening clothes as usual and Madame in her lavender gown.

"You look like a nymph of Botticelli's," commented Alden, with a smile. There was no trace of confusion, or even of consciousness in his manner, and, once again, Edith reproached herself for her foolishness.

"Don't Leave Me Alone"

Dinner was cheerful, though not lively. Once or twice, Edith caught Alden looking at her with a strange expression on his face. Madame chattered on happily, of the vineyard and the garden and the small household affairs that occupied her attention.

Afterward, Alden read the paper and the other two played cribbage. It was only a little after nine when Madame, concealing a yawn, announced that she was tired and would go to bed, if she might be excused.

Edith rose with alacrity. "I'll come, too," she said. "It's astonishing how sleepy it makes one to be outdoors."

"Don't," Madame protested. "We mustn't leave him entirely alone. You can sleep late to-morrow morning if you choose."

"Please don't leave me alone, Mrs. Lee," pleaded Alden, rather wickedly.

"All right," Edith answered, accepting the inevitable as gracefully as she might. "Shall I play solitaire while you read the paper?"

"If you like," he replied.

Madame took her candle and bade them good-night. As she went up-stairs, Edith said, with a pout: "I wish I were going to bed too."

"You can't sleep all the time," he reminded her. The paper had slipped to the floor. "Mother tells me that you slept this morning until half-past nine."

The Souvenir of Rural Lovers