Peanuts were the order of the day, and their assertive crackle broke in upon the finest passages.  Elizabeth wished her cousin would take a walk; and by and by she did, politely inviting Elizabeth to go along; but she declined, and they were left to sit through the remainder of the afternoon concert.

After supper they watched the lights come out, Elizabeth thinking about the description of the heavenly city as one after another the buildings blazed out against the darkening blue of the June night.  The music was about to begin.  Indeed, it could be heard already in the distance, and drew the girl irresistibly.  For the first time that day she made a move, and the others followed, half wearied of their dissipations, and not knowing exactly what to do next.

They stood the first half of the concert very well, but at the intermission they wandered out to view the electric fountain with its many-colored fluctuations, and to take a row on the tiny sheet of water.  Elizabeth remained sitting where she was, and watched the fountain.  Even her grandmother and aunt grew restless, and wanted to walk again.  They said they had had enough music, and did not want to hear any more.  They could hear it well enough, anyway, from further off.  They believed they would have some ice-cream.  Didn’t Elizabeth want some?

She smiled sweetly.  Would grandmother mind if she sat right there and heard the second part of the concert?  She loved music, and this was fine.  She didn’t feel like eating another thing to-night.  So the two ladies, thinking the girl queer that she didn’t want ice-cream, went off to enjoy theirs with a clear conscience; and Elizabeth drew a long breath, and sat back with her eyes closed, to test and breathe in the sweet sounds that were beginning to float out delicately as if to feel whether the atmosphere were right for what was to come after.

It was just at the close of this wonderful music, which the programme said was Mendelssohn’s “Spring Song,” when Elizabeth looked up to meet the eyes of some one who stood near in the aisle watching her, and there beside her stood the man of the wilderness!

He was looking at her face, drinking in the beauty of the profile and wondering whether he were right.  Could it be that this was his little brown friend, the maid of the wilderness?  This girl with the lovely, refined face, the intellectual brow, the dainty fineness of manner?  She looked like some white angel dropped down into that motley company of Sunday-school picknickers and city pleasure-seekers.  The noise and clatter of the place seemed far away from her.  She was absorbed utterly in the sweet sounds.

When she looked up and saw him, the smile that flashed out upon her face was like the sunshine upon a day that has hitherto been still and almost sad.  The eyes said, “You are come at last!” The curve of the lips said, “I am glad you are here!”

He went to her like one who had been hungry for the sight of her for a long time, and after he had grasped her hand they stood so for a moment while the hum and gentle clatter of talk that always starts between numbers seethed around them and hid the few words they spoke at first.