"Don't go away," she said--"don't ever go away from our garden again."
"No, Eileen."
"Is it a promise . . . Philip?"
Her voice fell exquisitely low.
"Yes, a promise. Do you take me back, Eileen?"
"Yes; I take you. . . . Take me back, too, Philip." Her hands tightened
in his; she looked up at him, faltered, waited; then in a fainter voice:
"And--and be of g-good courage. . . . I--I am not very old yet."
She withdrew her hands and bent her head, sitting there, still as a
white-browed novice, listlessly considering the lengthening shadows at
her feet. But, as he rose and looked out across the waste with enchanted
eyes that saw nothing, his heart suddenly leaped up quivering, as though
his very soul had been drenched in immortal sunshine.
An hour later, when Nina discovered them there together, Eileen, curled
up among the cushions in the swinging seat, was reading aloud "Evidences
of Asiatic Influence on the Symbolism of Ancient Yucatan"; and Selwyn,
astride a chair, chin on his folded arms, was listening with evident
rapture.
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