Kilmeny of the Orchard 
     
    
   
   
    
     been wishing ever since that I might hear 
     
     it again. Won’t you play for me? ” 
     
    

    
     The vague fear had all gone from her 
     
     eyes by this time, and suddenly she 
     
     smiled—a merry, girlish, wholly irresist- 
     
     ible smile, which broke through the calm 
     
     of her face like a gleam of sunlight rip— 
     
     pling over a placid sea. Then she wrote, 
     
     “ I am very sorry that I cannot play this 
     
     evening. I did not bring my violinzbefi 
     
     With me. But I will bring it to-morrow 
     
     evening and play for you if you would like 
     
     to hear me. I should like to please you.” 
     
    

    
     Again that note of innocent frankness! 
     
     What a child she was—what a beautiful, 
     
     ignorant child, utterly unskilled in the 
     
     art of hiding her feelings! But Why 
     
     should she hide them? They were as pure 
     
     and beautiful as herself. Eric smiled 
     
     back at her with equal frankness. 
     
    

    
     “ I should like it more than I can say, 
     
     and I shall be sure to come to-morrow 
     
     evening if it is fine. But if it is at all 
     
     damp or unpleasant you must not come. 
     
    
   
   
    
     92