at one corner--I can never be quite certain of its exact
location, because its appearance is, as a rule, so very meteoric--but
somewhere there is a dimple. Now, if ever there was an arrant traitor
in this world it is that dimple; for let her expression be ever so
guileless, let her wistful eyes be raised with a look of tears in their
blue depths, despite herself that dimple will spring into life and undo
it all in a moment. So it was now, even as I watched it quivered round
her lips, and feeling herself betrayed, the frown vanished altogether
and she smiled. "And now, Dick, suppose you give me my--my--"

"Conditionally," I said, sitting down beside her.

The sun had set, and from somewhere among the purple shadows of the
wood the rich, deep notes of a blackbird came to us, with pauses now
and then, filled in with the rustle of leaves and the distant lowing of
cows.

"Not far from the village of Down in Kent," I began dreamily, "there
stands an old house with quaint, high-gabled roofs and twisted Tudor
chimneys! Many years ago it was the home of fair ladies and gallant
gentlemen, but its glory is long past. And yet, Lisbeth, when I think
of it at such an hour as this, and with you beside me, I begin to
wonder if we could not manage between us to bring back the old order of
things."

Lisbeth was silent.

"It has a wonderful old-fashioned rose garden, and you are fond of
roses, Lisbeth."

"Yes," she murmured; "I'm very fond of roses."

"They would be in full bloom now," I suggested.

There was another pause, during which the blackbird performed three or
four difficult arias with astonishing ease and precision.

"Aunt Agatha is fond of roses, too!" said Lisbeth at last very gravely.
"Poor, dear Aunt, I wonder what she would say if she could see us now?"

"Such things are better left to the imagination," I answered.

"I ought to write and tell her," murmured Lisbeth.

"But you won't do that, of course?"

"No, I won't do that if--"

"Well?"

"If you will give me--them."

"One," I demurred.

"Both!"

"On one condition then--just once, Lisbeth?"

Her lips were very near, her lashes drooped, and for one delicious
moment she hesitated. Then I felt a little tug at my coat pocket and
springing to her feet she was away with "them" clutched in her hand.

"Trickery!" I cried, and started in pursuit.

There is a path through the woods leading to the Shrubbery at Pane
Court. Down this she fled, and h