down the path to meet him, brushing the dew from the border of
mignonette with her light gown.

"What a glorious day Eppie's going to have!" she cried, plucking a rosy
sweet-pea that nodded over the gate.

"I wish it was our day," Charles Stuart said enviously. "Two years
more to wait, Lizzie."

She smiled up at him hopefully. "But we'll make them beautiful years,"
she whispered. "See," she held up a sheet of paper. "I've done it
again."

He took it, but did not look at it immediately. For Elizabeth was as
radiant as the morning, and his eyes could not turn from her so soon.
He did not need to be a Pretender any more either, for the love-light
in his eyes was answered by her own.

As they walked down the lane with the sunrise gleaming in Elizabeth's
uncovered head, he read her verses.

"Has it a soul?" she asked mischievously.

There was a mist in Charles Stuart's deep eyes as he turned towards her.

"Lizzie! It has an immortal soul! It's a musical morning-glory! It
has come at last, hasn't it?"

"It was my own fault that it was so long in coming," she said. "But I
think it was waiting for you, Stuart."

Charles Stuart's answer was not verbal, but it was more expressive than
the most eloquent words.

They plunged gayly down the bank of the creek, hand in hand like two
children.

"Oh, oh," cried Elizabeth, "just look at the forget-me-nots! I'm going
to make a wreath of them for Eppie's hair."

Far up the creek, a cat-bird, hidden amongst scented basswood blossoms,
was singing a gay medley of purest music. On either side the banks
were hidden in a luxury of reeds, water-lily leaves, blue
forget-me-nots, and gay bobbing lady's-slippers. And between, the
winding stream shone pink and gold in the sunrise.

Charles Stuart stood watching his lady as she filled her hands with
blossoms.

"You love this place, don't you, 'Lizbeth of The Dale?" he said.

"Love it? There is no spot on earth like it."

"And how can you bear to leave it all to come away with me--and to a
foreign land, too?"

She raised her face from her rosy bouquet and looked into his eyes.
And Charles Stuart smiled, knowing he had said a very absurd thing
indeed.

They sat down under an overhanging willow, and talked of the days that
were past, and the yet more interesting days to come.

"I remember I used to discuss the possibility of my being a foreign
missionary with Mother MacAllister," Elizabeth said, "in sun-bonnet
day