Kilmeny of the Orchard 
     
    
   
   
    
     shrank from doing this. He felt that it 
     
     was impossible to ask Robert Williamson 
     
     and probably have the girl’s name over— 
     
     flowed in a stream of petty gossip con- 
     
     cerning her and all her antecedents and 
     
     collaterals to the third and fOurth genera- 
     
     tion. If he had to ask any one it should 
     
     be Mrs. Williamson; but he meant to find 
     
     out the secret for himself if it were at all 
     
     possible. 
     
    

    
     He had planned to go to the harbour the 
     
     next evening. One of the lobstermen had 
     
     promised to take him out cod-fishing. But 
     
     instead he wandered southwest over the 
     
     fields again. 
     
    

    
     He found the orchard easily—he had 
     
     half expected not to find it. It was still 
     
     the same fragrant, grassy, wind-haunted 
     
     spot. But it had no occupant and the vio- 
     
     lin bow was gone from the old bench. 
     
    

    
     “ Perhaps she tiptoed back here for it 
     
     by the light 0’ the moon,” thought Eric, 
     
     pleasing his fancy by the vision of a lithe, 
     
     girlish figure stealing with a beating heart 
     
    

    
     68