"You have held that spray of apple blossoms in your hand all the
evening," he said, "give me that."

She laughed and held it out to him.

"Thank you," he said; "now that you have touched it it ought not to
die."

"Do all artists talk like you, Mr. Lyster?"

"When the same subject inspires them," he replied, and then Adelaide
reminded them again that time was flying, and they must be gone.

A few more minutes and the handsome young artist was walking quickly
down the high road. He had succeeded beyond his wildest expectations. He
felt as sure of winning the beautiful young heiress as though he had
placed already a wedding ring upon her finger. He laughed to himself to
think how easy the task was; so easy, in fact, that he felt a touch of
contempt for that which was so easily won.

"It will be a good thing for me," he said to himself. "If I succeed,
painting may go. I shall not trouble myself about anything but spending
money. If I succeed, Adelaide shall have her reward." And he pleased
himself by thinking how, out of his forty thousands, he would give her a
fortune.

"She deserves it. She has worked hard for me, and she shall not be
forgotten."