The glance which she gave made his heart leap up; for a moment or
two they were silent, looking at each other, and then suddenly
another thought struck the girl. “Arthur,” she cried, “I forgot! Do
you mean to tell me that you have come all the way from Hilltown?”
“Yes, Helen.”
“And just to see me?”
“Yes, Helen.”
“And this morning?”
She received the same answer again. “It is twelve miles,” she
exclaimed; “who ever heard of such a thing? You must be tired to
death.”
She put out her hand, which he took tremblingly.
“Let us go sit down on the bench,” she said, “and then we can talk
about things. I am perfectly delighted that you came,” she added
when she had seated herself, with the marigolds and the lily in her
lap. “It will seem just like old times; just think how long ago it
was that I saw you last, Arthur,--three whole years! And do you
know, as I left the town I thought of you, and that I might find you
here.”
The young man's face flushed with pleasure.
“But I'd forgotten you since!” went on the girl, eyeing him
mischievously; “for oh, I was so happy, coming down the old, old
path, and seeing all the old sights! Things haven't changed a bit,
Arthur; the woods look exactly the same, and the bridge hasn't
altered a mite since the days we used to sit on the edge and let our
feet hang in. Do you remember that, Arthur?”
“Perfectly,” was the answer.
“And that was over a dozen years ago! How old are you now,
Arthur,--twenty-one--no, twenty-two; and I am just nineteen. To-day
is my birthday, you know!”
“I had not forgotten it, Helen.”
“You came to welcome me! And so did everything else. Do you know, I
don't think I'd ever been so happy in my life as I was just now. For
I thought the old trees greeted me, and the bridge, and the stream!
And I'm sure that was the same bobolink! They don't have any
bobolinks in Germany, and so that one was the first I have heard in
three years. You heard him, didn't you, Arthur?”
“I did--at first,” said Arthur.
“And then you heard me, you wicked boy! You heard me come in here
singing and talking to myself like a mad creature! I don't think I
ever felt so like singing before; they make hard work out of singing
and everything else in Germany, you know, so I never sang out of
business hours; but I believe I could sing all day now, because I'm
so happy.”
“Go on,” said the other, seriously; “I could listen.”
“No; I want to talk to you just now,” said Helen. “You should have
kept yourself hidden and then you'd have heard all sorts of
wonderful things that you'll never have another chance to hear. For
I was just going to make a speech to the forest, and I think I
should have kissed each one of the flowers. You might have put it
all into a poem,--for oh, father tells me you're going to be a great
poet!”
“I'm going to try,” said Arthur, blushing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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