Part 3 (2/2)
”And shall Leonard, then, not be our nearest and best friend, as we had planned?”
”He shall, Isabel. Ah yes; not one smallest part of your sweet friends.h.i.+p will I take from him, nor of his from you. For, Isabel, though he were as weak as I”--
”As weak as _I_, you should say, dear. You are not weak, Arthur, are you?”
”Weak as the bending gra.s.s, Isabel, under this load of love. But though he, I say, were as weak as I, you--ah, you!--are as wise as you are bewitching; and if I should speak to you from my most craven fear, I could find but one word of warning.”
”Oh, you dear, blind flatterer! And what word would that be?”
”That you are most bewitching when you are wisest.”
As Isabel softly laughed she cast a dreaming glance behind, and noticed that she and Arthur were quite hidden in the flowery undergrowth of the hill path. They kissed.
”Beloved,” said her wors.h.i.+pper, with a clouded smile, as he let her down from her tiptoes, ”do you know you took that as though you were thinking of something else?”
”Did I? Oh, I didn't mean to.”
Such a reply only darkened the cloud. ”Of whom were you thinking, Isabel?”
She blushed. ”I was think--thinking--why, I was--I--I was think--thinking”--she went redder and redder as he went pale--”thinking of everybody on Bylow Hill. Why--why, dear heart, don't you see? When you”--
”Oh, enough, enough, my angel! I take the question back!”
”You _made_ me think of everybody, Arthur, you were so sudden. Just suppose I had done so to you!” They both thought that worthy of a good laugh. ”Next time, dear,” added Isabel,--”no, no, no, but--next time, you mustn't be so sudden. There's no need, you know,”--she blushed again,--”and I promise you I'll give my whole mind to it! Get me some of that hawthorn bloom yonder, and let's go back.”
IV
AND BRING DOWN THE REMAINDER
This ”hill path” was a narrowed continuance of the street, that led gradually down along the hill's steep face to reach the town and the river meadows. G.o.dfrey, halting before Ruth and her brother, watched the blooming hawthorn, over there, bend and shake and straighten and bend again, above Arthur's unseen hands. Then, glancing furtively back toward Mrs. Morris, he muttered to Ruth, while Leonard gravely looked out across the landscape, ”I live and learn.”
”So we learn to live,” was Ruth's playful reply. To her it was painfully clear that Mrs. Morris, very sweetly no doubt, had eluded G.o.dfrey's endeavors to inform her of anything not to his brother's unqualified praise. In the Bylow Hill group, Ruth had a way of smiling abstractedly, which was very dear to G.o.dfrey even when it meant he had best say no more; and this smile had just said this to him when Isabel and Arthur came into view again. As the two and the three drifted toward each other, Ruth let Leonard outstep her, and joined G.o.dfrey with a light in her face that quickened his pulse.
After a word or two of slight import she said, as they slowly walked, ”G.o.dfrey.”
”Yes,” eagerly responded the lover.
”Down in the garden, awhile ago--did I--promise something?”
”You most certainly did!” She had promised that if he would let a certain subject drop she would bring it up again, herself, before he must take his leave.
”And must you go very soon, now?” she asked.
”I've only a few minutes left,” said the lover, with a lover's license.
”Well, I'm ready to speak. Of course, G.o.dfrey, I know my heart.”
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