She decided to wait until he came to look for her, then as swiftly changed her mind.  Rose was still playing.

[Illustration:  musical notation.]

Isabel hummed the melody to herself, not noting that she was off the key, and started slowly toward the house, by another path.

Allison was standing in the shadow of a maple, listening to the music and drawing in deep breaths of the rose-scented air.  The moon flooded the garden with enchantment, and a shaft of silver light, striking the sundial, made a shadow that was hours wrong.  He smiled as he saw it, amiably crediting the moon with an accidental error, rather than a purposeful lie.

[Illustration:  musical notation.]

Deeper and more vibrant, the woman within sent the cry of her heart into the night, where the only one who could answer it stood watching the shadow of the moon on the sun-dial and the spangled cobwebs on the grass.  He picked a rose, put it into his button-hole, and turned toward the house.

A hushed sound, as of rustling silk, made him pause, then, at the head of the path, where another joined it, Isabel appeared, with white roses in her hair and the moon shining full upon her face.  The spangles on her gown caught the light and broke it into a thousand tiny rainbows, surrounding her with faint iridescence.

The old, immortal hunger surged into his veins, the world-old joy made his senses reel.  He steadied himself for a moment, then went to her, with his arms outstretched in pleading.

“Oh, Silver Girl,” he whispered, huskily.  “My Silver Girl!  Tell me you’ll shine for me always!”

[Illustration:  musical notation.]

The last chord ceased, full of yearning that was almost prayer.  Then Isabel, cold as marble and passionless as snow, lifted her face for his betrothal kiss.

XIII

WHITE GLOVES

With shyness that did not wholly conceal her youthful pride, Isabel told Madame, a few days later.  The little old lady managed to smile and to kiss Isabel’s soft cheek, murmuring the conventional hope for her happiness.  Inwardly, she was far from calm, though deeply thankful that Rose did not happen to be in the room.

“You must make him very happy, dear,” she said.

“I guess we’ll have a good time,” returned Isabel, smothering a yawn.  “It will be lots of fun to go all over the country and see all the big cities.”

“I hope he will be successful,” Madame continued.  “He must be,” she added, fervently.

“I suppose we shall be entertained a great deal,” remarked Isabel.  “He has written to Mamma, but she hasn’t had time to answer yet.”

“I can vouch for my foster son,” Madame replied.

“It isn’t necessary,” the girl went on, “and I told him so.  Mamma never cares what I do, and she’ll be glad to get me off her hands.  Would you mind if I were married here?”