The sun rose in the low-lying mists; it transfused them with crimson. It mounted above them; shot them through and through with gold and violet--then dispersed them without warning, and showed to the girl's charmed eyes and senses the gleaming blue of the lake waters blotched with the dull green of the lily-pads, and among them the lilies expanding the fragrant white of their corollas to its beneficent light and warmth.... * * * * * When she left the boat his kiss was on her lips, his words of love ringing in her ears. One more of her day dreams was realized: she had given to the man she loved with all her heart her first kiss--and with it, on her part, the unspoken pledge of herself. A movement somewhere about the house, the lowing of the cattle, the morning breeze stirring in the trees--something startled them. They drew apart, smiling into each other's eyes. She placed her finger on her lips. "Hush!" she whispered. She was off on a run across the lawn, turning once to wave her hand to him.--And now _this_! How could this then that she had just been told be true? Her whole being revolted at the thought that he was tampering with what to her was the holiest in her young life--her love for him. In the past six weeks it never once occurred to her that he could prove unworthy of such trust as hers; no man would dare to be untrue to her--to her, Aileen Armagh, who never in all her wilfulness and love of romance had given man or boy occasion to use either her name or her lightly! How dared he do this thing? Did he not know with whom he had to deal? Because she was only Aileen Armagh, and at service with his relation, did he think her less the true woman? Suspicion was foreign to her open nature; doubt, distrust had no place in her young life; but like a serpent in the girl's Eden the words of the mistress of Champ-au-Haut, "He never will ask you to be his wife," dropped poison in her ears. She sat up on the grass, thrust back her hair from her forehead-- "Let him dare to hint even that what he said was love for me was not what--what--" She buried her face in her hands. "Aileen--Aileen--where are you?" That voice, breaking in upon her wretched thought of him, brought her to her feet. VIII "Mother, don't you think Aunt Meda might open her purse and do something for Aileen Armagh now that the girl has been faithful to her interests so long?" He had remained at home since his arrival in the morning, and was now about to drive down into the town. His mother looked up from her sewing in surprise. "What put that into your mind? I was thinking the same thing myself not a week ago; she has such a wonderful voice." "It seems unjust to keep her from utilizing it for herself so far as an income is concerned and to deprive others of the pleasure of hearing her voice after it is trained. But, of course, she can't do it herself."