The beautiful picture of this fair, passionate woman died from my mind as I went to seek one a thousand times more fair.  How well I remember the day—­the golden sunshine, the fragrant wind, the blooming flowers, as I rode forth to win my love!  It seemed to me that the summer skies smiled on me, and the singing birds wished me joy.

The way to Harden Manor lay through green, flowery lanes and a shady highroad.  It seemed long because my heart sighed to be with her; yet short because I was so uncertain what to say, and how my wooing would end.

I reached the manor at last.  Sir John was from home.  Lady Thesiger and Agatha were busily engaged in making pretty fancy articles for a grand fancy fair that was to be held—­for the benefit of some out-of-the-way people—­by special permission of His Grace the Duke of Fairholme in the grounds of Fairholme Castle.

Lady Thesiger looked up when I entered, with a smile.

“Good morning, Sir Edgar; I am very glad to see you.  Agatha and I were just wishing we had a gentleman to help us.  Are you willing to assist us for a day?”

My face flushed hotly with delight.

“Am I willing to give myself a day of Utopian delight, Lady Thesiger?  Most certainly.  I will do anything—­I can be very useful.  I can mount drawings, frame photographs, sketch and design, and my humble talents are all yours.”

Then Agatha looked at me, and the glance of those eyes was so sweet I almost lost myself.

“The Cherokee Indians, or whatever they are called, will be much obliged to you,” she said.  “I cannot call working for them ‘Utopian delight;’ my fingers ache with this stiff cardboard.”

“You willfully misunderstand me, Miss Thesiger; the delight consists in being with you, not in working for the Cherokees.  Save that I shudder when I hear that they have eaten a missionary, they have no particular interest for me.”

Lady Thesiger smiled.

“You must work, not talk, Sir Edgar.  Sit down here, pray, and if you think Miss Trevelyan will be uneasy, I will send a servant to tell her that you will remain here for lunch and for dinner.”

“I prepared her for that emergency; now give me something to do for the Cherokees.”

My hands were soon filled.  It was pleasant sitting there in that fragrant, sunny drawing-room, with two of the most gracious and graceful women in England.  Yet it was hard.  I had gone there purposely to tell the story of my love, and now I was condemned to sit for hours by Agatha’s side and say nothing to her.

“Perhaps fortune may favor me,” I thought; “Lady Thesiger may leave the room, and then I will not lose a moment.”

How fervently I blessed these Cherokees before the day was ended no one will ever know.  Lady Thesiger never left us; Agatha worked very hard.  Looking at the sweet, calm, high-bred face, I wondered if she knew that a lover, with his heart on fire, sat near her.