ittle, "you do
believe--_part_ of it!" And in her eyes was a glint of fire.

And then as my face fell blankly, a slow little smile came creeping back
to hers. Her eyes softened.

"Forgive me," she said gently; "I misunderstood!"

The darling! And, dash it, if they were going to have vines to a
pavilion, why didn't they _have_ vines?

"Do you know," she said, "I don't believe you _do_ believe any of these
awful things could be true about me,"--her voice quickened here--"and do
you know I just think it's lovely of you! I _do_!" And her dear voice
dropped like the softer notes of a what's-its-name. Her hands lay in her
lap and she was studying me in the kindest, sweetest way! And I wanted
to tell her how good she was and how much I loved her, don't you know,
but just then, behind the pavilion, came the gardener. He was talking to
one of his assistants about slugs--_dash_ slugs!

And then her face lighted again as though she would speak and I leaned
eagerly toward her--waiting, expectant.

"When Arthur made his court at--" she began, and, by Jove, my jolly
heart sank. If she would only drop Arthur and give me a chance to make
_my_ court, dash it! "Camelot, you know," she went on, and I almost
groaned. What did _I_ care that he came a lot? Perhaps, now, if I could
divert her mind--

"Oh, I say, you know," I broke in interestedly, "what was it you
were--er--humming--just now, don't you know."

"Vivian's song--don't you remember it?"

I tried to think, but I couldn't seem to place her, though I knew the
whole line of 'em back to Lottie Gilson.

I finally had to shake my head.

She smiled. "Don't you know," she said:

"'I think you hardly know the tender rhyme
Of "trust me not at all or all in all."'"

She was right! I didn't know the jolly thing, that was a fact, but
somehow I liked the swing of it. She went on, and struck me with another
remark. By Jove, she seemed to have forgotten about the jolly song and I
was devilish glad, for _I_ had rather hear her _talk_, don't you know.

"'In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours--'"

"_If?_" I ejaculated reproachfully, hitching nearer. But she only
smiled, and continued her remark:

"'Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers;
Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all.'"

"Oh!" I uttered. For, by Jove, she had said it--the thing I had felt all
the time and couldn't express; the something that had been with me all
along in connection with h