He had not heard her enter, and wheeling round looked at her with a radiant face, as he said, drawing a long breath,—
"At last! you were so busy over the dear man, I got no word. But I can wait: I'm used to it."
Rose stood quite still, surveying him with a new sort of reverence in her eyes, as she answered with a sweet solemnity, that made him laugh and redden with the sensitive joy of one to whom praise from her lips was very precious.
"You forget that you are not the Mac who went away. I should have run to meet my cousin, but I did not dare to be familiar with the poet whom all begin to honor."
"You like the mixture then? You know I said I'd try to give you love and poetry together."
"Like it! I'm so glad, so proud, I haven't any words strong and beautiful enough to half express my wonder and my admiration. How could you do it, Mac?" and a whole face full of smiles broke loose, as Rose clapped her hands, looking as if she could dance with sheer delight at his success.
"It did itself, up there among the hills, and here with you, or out alone upon the sea. I could write a heavenly poem this very minute, and put you in as Spring; you look like her in that green gown with snowdrops in your bonny hair? Rose, am I getting on a little? Does a hint of fame help me nearer to the
