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XXVIII. The Prince Comes Back to the Enchanted Palace

           ButAnnefeltthathewasthinkingofsomethingelseunderneathallthetime.Presentlyitcametothesurface.

           “InPaul’slastletterhespokeofgoingwithyoutovisitanold...friendofmine...MissLewisatthestonehouseinGrafton.Doyouknowherwell?”

           “Yes,indeed,sheisaverydearfriendofmine,”wasAnne’sdemurereply,whichgavenohintofthesuddenthrillthattingledoverherfromheadtofootatMr.Irving’squestion.Anne“feltinstinctively”thatromancewaspeepingatheraroundacorner.

           Mr.Irvingroseandwenttothewindow,lookingoutonagreat,golden,billowingseawhereawildwindwasharping.Forafewmomentstherewassilenceinthelittledark-walledroom.ThenheturnedandlookeddownintoAnne’ssympatheticfacewithasmile,half-whimsical,half-tender.

           “Iwonderhowmuchyouknow,”hesaid.

           “Iknowallaboutit,”repliedAnnepromptly.“Yousee,”sheexplainedhastily,“MissLavendarandIareveryintimate.Shewouldn’ttellthingsofsuchasacrednaturetoeverybody.Wearekindredspirits.”

           “Yes,Ibelieveyouare.Well,Iamgoingtoaskafavorofyou.IwouldliketogoandseeMissLavendarifshewillletme.WillyouaskherifImaycome?”

           Wouldshenot?Oh,indeedshewould!Yes,thiswasromance,thevery,therealthing,withallthecharmofrhymeandstoryanddream.Itwasalittlebelated,perhaps,likearosebloominginOctoberwhichshouldhavebloomedinJune;butnonethelessarose,allsweetnessandfragrance,withthegleamofgoldinitsheart.

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