CHAPTER XI 
     
     A LOVER AND HIS LASS 
     
    
   
   
    
     ILMENY was in the orchard when 
     
     Eric reached it, and he lingered 
     
     for a moment in the shadow of the 
     
    

    
     spruce wood to dream over her beauty. 
     
     The orchard had lately overflowed in 
     
     waves of old—fashioned caraway, and she 
     
     was standing in the midst of its sea of 
     
     bloom, with the lace-like blossoms sway- 
     
     ing around her in the wind. She wore the 
     
     simple dress of pale blue print in which 
     
     he had first seen her; silk attire could not 
     
     better have become her loveliness. She 
     
     had woven herself a chaplet of half open 
     
     white rosebuds and placed it on her dark 
     
     hair, where the delicate blossoms seemed 
     
    

    
     less wonderful than her face. 
     
    

    
     When Eric stepped through the gap 
     
     she ran to meet him with outstretched 
     
     hands, smiling. He took her hands and 
     
    
   
   
    
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