A flush overspread her face, and the laughter died from lips and eyes. Dan spoke more ardently than he intended, and his glance rested on her with such fire that she trembled. The song had revealed to Dan in one instant that he was in love with this dryad, and, in the sudden rush of passion to his heart, he hardly knew what he said or did. She sat with downcast eyes, and put out her hand with a sudden gesture as though to keep off something she feared. After that brief outburst of passion, which lent ardour to his words and fire to his glance, reason reasserted her sway, and Dan felt shame-faced at so far forgetting himself. With ready wit he turned off his speech as a jest, though the throbbing of his heart gave the lie to his utterance. "Of course I speak in rhyme," he said, forcing himself to talk calmly, "and but repeat the sentiments of your song. Where did you find such pretty words?" Meg by this time had recovered herself. The smile came back to her lips, the sense of dread passed away, and she was able to reply to his question in her usual spirit. Yet that moment left its effect behind it, and implanted in her heart a germ to grow and spread in the near future. She was ignorant of the change for the moment, yet even then felt vaguely that something had occurred to change the face of things. "I found the words in an old book at Farbis Court," she replied quietly. "A Carolian lyric, no doubt," said Dan, carelessly. "They have a slight flavour of Suckling and Rochester. Probably they are by some rhyming ancestor of the Breels." "Perhaps Sir Alurde was the poet." "Eh? You put the verses back to Elizabeth? No. They smack more of the Restoration than of Gloriana's reign. But, talking of Sir Alurde, when are you going to show me my double?" "Come to-morrow to the park gates, at two o'clock, and I will take you to the picture-gallery." "But Miss Linisfarne?" "Oh, she will not mind! I told her all about you, Dan." "I trust you drew a flattering portrait?" "So flattering that I shall not repeat my description." "From such reticence I guess what you have said," replied Dan, laughing. "Will I see Miss Linisfarne?" "No. She never sees any one." "Why not?" "I cannot tell you. Perhaps it is because she has lost her beauty." "Was she beautiful?" "Oh, very, very beautiful!" said Meg, earnestly. "She showed me her portrait, and I never saw anything so lovely in my life." "Ah! Then you have not looked in the glass lately," observed Dan, rashly. Meg jumped up quickly, and frowned. Again that fear made itself felt. "You should not jest with me. I don't like it." "On my word of honour, I am not jesting." His ardent gaze corroborated those words, and, with a sudden feeling of dread, she ran past him, and flitted rapidly up the path. Dan feared that he had offended her, and this fear became certainty the next moment. She fled like an angered goddess.