"Oh!" cried she; "how dare you!"

And now Travers got rather painfully upon his feet, and, with fiddle
under one arm and book under the other, came forward into the open and
inclined his uncovered head. He was twenty then, fair and handsome, and
in his gray eyes shone that kindliness that was doomed later on to bring
him so much that was both evil and good.

"I beg your pardon. I did not know I was on sacred ground. I just
happened here, you see, and I could not help the laugh; it was the only
compliment I could pay for anything so lovely--so utterly lovely."

Priscilla melted at once and fear fled. Not for an instant did she
connect this handsome fellow with the crooked wrongdoer of the Hill
Place. Jerry-Jo's long-ago description had been too vivid to be
forgotten, and this stranger was one to charm and win confidence.

"Will you--oh! please do--let me play for you? You dance like a nymph. Do
you know what a nymph is?"

Priscilla shook her head.

"Well, it's the only thing that can dance like you; the only thing that
should ever be allowed to dance in the woods. Come, now, listen sharp,
and as I play, keep step."

Leaning against a strong young hemlock, Dick Travers placed his fiddle
and struck into a giddy, tuneful thing as picturesque as the time and
occasion. With head bent to one side and eyes and lips smiling, Priscilla
listened until something within her caught and responded to the tripping