long wooing or
betrothal. . . . And while she must appear to be in favor of a return
home, first, and a marriage from her home, the American ceremony would
cut many knots for her--save much expense at home. . . .

She saw herself proudly exhibiting Johnny, delighting in his youth, his
blonde Americanism, his smartly cut clothes, his conqueror's assurance.

Meanwhile Maria Angelina was still standing there in the moonlight, like
a little wraith of silver, smiling with absent eyes at Johnny's muttered
words, withdrawing, in childish panic, from Johnny's close pressing
ardor. She knew that if he persisted . . . but before her soft
detachment, her half laughing evasiveness of his mood, he did not
persist. He seemed oddly struggling with some withholding uncertainties
of his own.

"Oh, well, if that's all you like me," said Johnny grumpily.

It was reprieve . . . reprieve to the irrevocable things. Her heart
danced . . . and yet a piqued resentment pinched her.

He had been able to resist.

She knew subtly that she could have overcome that irresolution. . . .
But she was not going to make things too easy for him--her Santonini
pride forbade!

"We must go back," she told him and exulted in his moodiness.

And for the rest of the evening his arm pressed her, his eyes smiled
down significantly upon her, and when she confronted the great mirror
again it was to glimpse a girl with darkly shining eyes and cheeks like
scarlet poppies, a girl in white, like a bride, and with a bride's high
pride and assured heart.

She slept, that night, composing the letter to dear Mamma.

CHAPTER VI

TWO--AND A MOUNTAIN

The next morning was given to recovery from the dance. In the afternoon
the Martins had planned a mountain climb. It was not a really bad
mountain, at all, and the arrangement was to start in the late
afternoon, have dinner upon the top, and descend by moonlight.

It was the plan of the younger inexhaustibles among the group, but in
spite of faint protests from some of the elders all the Martin
house-party was in line for the climb, and with the addition of the
Blair party and several other couples from the Lodge, quite a procession
was formed upon the path by the river.

It was a lovely day--a shade too hot, if anything was to be urged
against it. The sun struck great shafts of golden light amid the rich
green of the forest, splashing the great tree boles with bold light and
shade. The air was fragrant