The hour had come for a definite understanding and both were
conquered by its importance. For the first time in his life he knew the
meaning of diffidence. It came over him as he looked helplessly into the
clear, gray, earnest eyes. "I love you for wearing that red feather," he
said simply.
"And I loved you for wearing it," she answered, her voice soft and
thrilling. He caught his breath joyously.
"Beverly," as he bent over her, "you are my very life, my--"
"Don't, Paul!" she whispered, drawing away with an embarrassed glance
about the park. There were people to be seen on all sides. But he had
forgotten them. He thought only of the girl who ruled his heart. Seeing
the pain in his face, she hastily, even blushingly, said: "It is so
public, dear."
He straightened himself with soldierly precision, but his voice trembled
as he tried to speak calmly in defiance to his eyes. "There is the
grotto--see! It is seclusion itself. Will you come with me? I must tell
you all that is in my heart. It will burst if I do not."
Slowly they made their way to the fairy grotto deep in the thicket of
trees. It was Yetive's favorite dreaming place. Dark and cool and
musical with the rippling of waters, it was an ideal retreat. She
dropped upon the rustic bench that stood against the moss-covered wall
of boulders. With the gentle reserve of a man who reveres as well as
loves, Baldos stood above her.
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