"
"On what?"
Lisbeth stooped, and picking up her hat, began to put it on.
"Depends on what?" I repeated.
Her hat was on now, but for a while she did not answer, her eyes
upon the "fairy path." When at last she spoke her voice was very
low and tender.
"'Not far from the village of Down, in Kent, there is a house,'" she
began, "'a very old ho use, with pointed gables and pannelled
chambers, but empty to-night and desolate.' You see I remember it
all," she broke off.
"Yes, you remember it all," I repeated, wondering.
"Dick - I - I want you to - take me there. I've thought of it all
so often. Take me there, Dick."
"Lisbeth, do you mean it?"
"It has been the dream of my life for a long time now - to work for
you there, to take care of you, Dick - you need such a deal, such
a great deal of taking care of - to walk with you in the old rose
garden; but I'm a beggar now, you know, though I sha'n't mind a bit
if - if you want me, Dick."
"Want you!" I cried, and with the words I drew her close and kissed
her. Now, from somewhere in the tree above came a sudden crack and
mighty snapping of twigs.
Pages:
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192