In short, they played upon him lightly as they touch the piano.  And Eve carolled a song, and David accompanied her on the fiddle; and at the third verse Lucy chimed in spontaneously with a second, and the next verse David struck in with a base, and the tepid air rang with harmony, and poor David thrilled with happiness.  His heart felt his voice mingle and blend with hers, and even this contact was delicious to his imagination.  And they were happy.  But all must end; the shades of evening came down, and the pleasant little party broke up, and, as John had not come, David asked leave to escort her home.  Oh no, she could not think of giving him that trouble; so saying, she went home with him.  When they were alone, his deep love made him timid and confused.  He walked by her side, and did not speak to her.  She waited with some surprise at this silence, and then, as he was shy, she talked to him, uttered many airy nothings, and then put questions to him.  “Did he always drink tea out of doors?”

“On fine nights in summer.  Eve settled all such matters.”

“Have you not a voice?”

“I have a voice, but no vote.  She is skipper ashore.”

“Oh, is she?  Who taught her how delicious it is to drink tea out of doors?”

David did not know—­fancied it was her own idea.  “Did you really like it, Miss Fountain?”

“Like it, Mr. Dodd!  It was Elysium.  I never passed a sweeter evening in my life.”

David colored all over.  “I wish I could believe that.”

“Was it the tulip-tree, or the violin, or was it your conversation, Mr. Dodd, I wonder?” asked she demurely, looking mock-innocent in his face.

“It was your goodness to be so easily pleased,” said Dodd, with a gush that made her color.  She smiled, however.  “Well, that is one way of looking at things,” said she. "Entre nous, I think Miss Dodd was the enchantress.”

“Eve is capital company, for that matter.”

“Indeed she is; you must be very happy together.  Your mutual affection is very charming, Mr. Dodd, but sometimes it almost makes me sad.  Forgive me!  I have no brother.”

“You will never want one to love you a thousand times better than a brother can love.”

“Oh, shan’t I?” said the lady, and opened her eyes.

“No; and there is more than one that worships the ground you tread on at this moment; but you know that.”

“Oh, do I?” She opened her eyes still wider.

David longed to tell how he loved her, but dared not.  He looked wistfully at her face.  It was quite calm and had suddenly became a little reserved.  He felt he was on new and dangerous ground; he sighed and was silent.  He turned away his face.  When this involuntary sigh broke from him she turned her head a little and looked at him.  He felt her eye dwell on him, and his cheeks burned under it.

The next moment they were at Font Hill, and Lucy seemed to David to hesitate whether to give him her hand at parting or not.