For several minutes neither of us spoke. The rivulet trickled along its way; bird called merrily to bird from unseen fastnesses in the treetops; the first butterfly of the season went flapping past on wings of white and yellow. And bird and butterfly and stream might have been the sole subjects of our thoughts. Yet all the while my mind was busy--and busy not with dreams of blue skies or growing leaves or ripening blossoms. "Do you know, Yasma," I finally began, while she sat wistfully gazing toward the woods, "I was speaking to your father yesterday." "Yes?" she murmured, in barely audible tones. To judge by the faint-heartedness of her response, she might not have been interested; yet I noticed that she gave a slight start and bent her head away from me, while her fingers absently fondled the grass. "Yes; I was speaking to your father," I repeated, my eyes intently upon her. "Remember, you advised me to. I am glad that I did, for now everything seems clearer." "Clearer?" she asked, doubtfully, as she turned her gaze full upon me. "What is clearer?" For an instant I flinched before that steady, questioning glance. "It is clearer, how we two should act. Let us not blind ourselves with doubts, Yasma, nor throw our lives away over childish fancies. I have considered everything; I have thought and thought, and cannot see any objections great enough to stand in the way of our love. Let us pay no heed to what anyone may say; we shall be married, you and I; yes, we shall--" Yasma had sprung to her feet; with a furious exclamation, she interrupted me. "No, no, no! It cannot be!" In quivering agitation, she started pacing about the glade; and I had to go to her, and take her hands, and lead her back to her deserted grassy seat. "Now we must talk things over calmly, Yasma," I urged. "Your father and I have talked them over calmly. And we have agreed quite well." "But he didn't agree to let you marry me?" she demanded, almost fiercely. "He didn't agree to that?" "He gave me his advice, and said everything was in our own hands." "What advice did he give?" she flashed at me, not to be put off by equivocations. And her dark eyes shone with such distress that I would gladly have ended all arguments in a swift embrace. But I understood the need to state the facts unemotionally. As simply as I could, I reported the general drift of my conversation with Abthar. "You see!" she flung forth, when I had finished. "You see! It cannot be!" And again she arose; and wringing her hands like one who has suffered vile misfortune, she retreated to the further end of the glade. And again I had to go to her and lead her gently back to her seat by the rivulet's brink. "Let us be calm, Yasma," I pleaded once more. "There is no reason why we cannot have everything we wish. We shall yet be happy together, you and I."