Before I could
call it to mind, however, Lisbeth interrupted me.
"Don't you think you might pick up my shawl instead of staring at
me as if I was - "
"The most beautiful woman in the world!" I put in.
- "Who is catching her death of cold," she laughed, yet for all her
light tone her eyes drooped before mine as I obediently wrapped the
shawl about her, in the doing of which, my arm being round her, very
naturally stayed there, and - wonder of wonders, was not repulsed.
And at this very moment, from the shadowy trees behind us, came the
rich, clear song of a nightingale.
Oh! most certainly the air was full of magic to-night!
"Dick," said Lisbeth very softly as the trilling notes died away,
"I thought one could only dream such a night as this is."
"And yet life might hold many such for you and me, if you would only
let it, Lisbeth," I reminded her. She did not answer.
"Not far from the village of Down, in Kent," I began.
"There stands a house," she put in, staring up at the moon with
dreamy eyes.
"A very old house, with twisted Tudor chimneys and pointed gables
- you see I have it all by heart, Dick - a house with wide stairways
and long pannelled chambers - "
"Very empty and desolate at present," I added.
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