“‘You mistake!’ I exclaimed.  ’I didn’t mean that,—­I didn’t understand you.  Don’t talk to me that way,—­don’t look at me in that way, Miss Ringtop!  We were never meant for each other,—­I wasn’t——­You’re so much older,—­I mean different.  It can’t be,—­no, it can never be!  Let us go back to the house:  the night is cold.’

“I rose hastily to my feet.  She murmured something,—­what, I did not stay to hear,—­but, plunging through the cedars, was hurrying with all speed to the house, when, half-way up the lawn, beside one of the rocky knobs, I met Eunice, who was apparently on her way to join us.  In my excited mood, after the ordeal through which I had just passed, everything seemed easy.  My usual timidity was blown to the four winds.  I went directly to her, took her hand, and said,—­

“’Eunice, the others are driving me mad with their candor; will you let me be candid, too?’

“‘I think you are always candid, Enos,’ she answered.

“Even then, if I had hesitated, I should have been lost.  But I went on, without pausing,—­

“’Eunice, I love you,—­I have loved you since we first met.  I came here that I might be near you; but I must leave you forever, and to-night, unless you can trust your life in my keeping.  God help me, since we have been together I have lost my faith in almost everything but you.  Pardon me, if I am impetuous,—­different from what I have seemed.  I have struggled so hard to speak!  I have been a coward, Eunice, because of my love.  But now I have spoken, from my heart of hearts.  Look at me:  I can bear it now.  Read the truth in my eyes, before you answer.’

“I felt her hand tremble while I spoke.  As she turned towards me her face, which had been averted, the moon shone full upon it, and I saw that tears were upon her cheeks.  What was said—­whether anything was said—­I cannot tell.  I felt the blessed fact, and that was enough.  That was the dawning of the true Arcadia.”

——­Mrs. Billings, who had been silent during this recital, took her husband’s hand and smiled.  Mr. Johnson felt a dull pang about the region of his heart.  If he had a secret, however, I do not feel justified in betraying it.

“It was late,” Mr. Billings continued, “before we returned to the house.  I had a special dread of again encountering Miss Ringtop, but she was wandering up and down the bluff, under the pines, singing, ’The dream is past.’  There was a sound of loud voices, as we approached the stoop.  Hollins, Shelldrake and his wife, and Abel Mallory were sitting together near the door.  Perkins Brown, as usual, was crouched on the lowest step, with one leg over the other, and rubbing the top of his boot with a vigor which betrayed to me some secret mirth.  He looked up at me from under his straw hat with the grin of a malicious Puck, glanced towards the group, and made a curious gesture with his thumb.  There were several empty pint-bottles on the stoop.