either side of the little stream was wet and marshy. He would cut a sorry figure indeed as he went floundering up to his ankles in water. But to turn back was not to be thought of; better to perish, to drown miserably before her eyes, than to retrace his steps and virtually confess that he had been spying on her. He went heroically on. Bistre heroically followed.
An image should appear at this position in the text. To use the entire page scan as a placeholder, edit this page and replace "{{missing image}}" with "{{raw image|An orchard princess (IA orchardprincess00barbiala).pdf/29}}". Otherwise, if you are able to provide the image then please do so. For guidance, see Wikisource:Image guidelines and Help:Adding images. |  |
And then, at the last moment, with
one foot squishing down into a clump
of forget-me-nots, he turned and stole
a glance at the girl—and knew he was
saved! Her back was toward him,
but something—perhaps the half-hearted
way in which she dabbed a
brush onto a region of the palette
where there was no paint, perhaps the
strained set of her bent head—told
him that she was not so indifferent to
his fate as she would have it appear;
