Dolly and Walter Brydges strolled off by themselves toward the

rocky shore. There Walter showed her where a brook bubbled clear

from the fountain-head; by its brink, blue veronicas grew, and tall

yellow loosestrife, and tasselled purple heads of great English

eupatory. Bending down to the stream he picked a little bunch of

forget-me-nots, and handed them to her. Dolly pretended

unconsciously to pull the dainty blossoms to pieces, as she sat on

the clay bank hard by and talked with him. "Is that how you treat

my poor flowers?" Walter asked, looking askance at her.

Dolly glanced down, and drew back suddenly. "Oh, poor little

things!" she cried, with a quick droop of her long lashes. "I

wasn't thinking what I did." And she darted a shy glance at him.

"If I'd remembered they were forget-me-nots, I don't think I could

have done it."

She looked so sweet and pure in her budding innocence, like a

half-blown water-lily, that the young man, already more than

two-thirds in love, was instantly captivated. "Because they were

forget-me-nots, or because they were MINE, Miss Barton?" he asked

softly, all timorousness.

"Perhaps a little of both," the girl answered, gazing down, and

blushing at each word a still deeper crimson.

The blush showed sweet on that translucent skin. Walter turned to

her with a sudden impulse. "And what are you going to do with them

NOW?" he enquired, holding his breath for joy and half-suppressed

eagerness.

Dolly hesitated a moment with genuine modesty. Then her liking for

the well-knit young man overcame her. With a frightened smile her

hand stole to her bodice; she fixed them in her bosom. "Will that

do?" she asked timidly.

"Yes, that WILL do," the young man answered, bending forward and

seizing her soft fingers in his own. "That will do very well.

And, Miss Barton--Dolores--I take it as a sign you don't wholly

dislike me."

"I like you very much," Dolly answered in a low voice, pulling a

rock-rose from a cleft and tearing it nervously to pieces.

"Do you LOVE me, Dolly?" the young man insisted.

Dolly turned her glance to him tenderly, then withdrew it in haste.

"I think I MIGHT, in time," she answered very slowly.

"Then you will be mine, mine, mine?" Walter cried in an ecstasy.

Dolly bent her pretty head in reluctant assent, with a torrent of

inner joy. The sun flashed in her chestnut hair. The triumph of

that moment was to her inexpressible.




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