She's charming--she's got a delicate, beautiful character--and such a
warm heart! Don't break anybody's heart, Peter--for my silly sake!"
The surge of emotion in Peter subsided slowly. He began to study the moss
at his feet, poking at it with his stick.
"What makes you think I've been breaking Jenny's heart?" he said at last
in another voice.
"Some of your friends, Peter, yours and mine--have been writing to
me. She's--she's very fond of you, they say, and lately she's been
looking a little limp ghost--all along of you, Mr. Peter! What have
you been doing?"
"What any other man in my position would have been doing--wishing
to Heaven I knew _what_ to do!" said Peter, still poking vigorously
at the moss.
Helena bent forward from the oak tree, and just whispered--"Go back
to-morrow, Peter,--and propose to Jenny Dumbarton!"
Peter could not trust himself to look up at what he knew must be the
smiling seduction of her eyes and lips. He was silent; and Helena
withdrew--dryad-like--into the hollow made by the intertwined stems of
the oak, threw her head back against the main trunk, dropped her eyelids,
and waited.
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