He felt her hidden eyes upon him, but dared not look that way--feeling sure that if he betrayed himself in too eager haste she would vanish.

Bending forward toward his canvas, he made show of giving close attention to his work and waited.
For some minutes, she remained concealed; singing low, as though to try him with temptation.

Then, all at once,--as the painter, with poised brush, glanced from his canvas to the scene,--she stood in full view beside the spring; her graceful, brown-clad figure framed by the willow's green.

Her arms were filled with wild flowers that she had gathered from the mountainside--from nook and glade and glen.
"If you will not seek me, there is no use to hide," she called, still holding her place on the other side of the spring, and regarding him seriously; and the man felt under her words, and saw in her wide, blue eyes a troubled question.
"I sought you all the way to your home," he said, gently, "but you would not let me come near." "I was frightened," she returned, not lowering her eyes but regarding him steadily with that questioning appeal.
"I am sorry,"-- he said,--"won't you forgive me?
I will never frighten you so again.

I did not mean to do it." "Why," she answered, "I have to forgive myself as well as you.