God save us all!" Then, with a
meaning look at the two pretty girls watching him, he went slowly off,
droning out to a monotonous accompaniment, an old love ballad:--
"Picking of lilies the other day,
Picking of lilies both fresh and gay,
Picking of lilies, red, white, and blue,
Little I thought what love could do."
"'_Little I thought what love could do_,'" Julius repeated; and he sang
the doleful refrain over and over, as they strolled back to the oak
under which they had had their little feast. Then Sophia, who had a
natural love of neatness and order, began to collect the plates and
napkins, and arrange them in the basket; and this being done, she looked
around for the housemaid in order to put it in her charge. The girl was
at the other end of the field, and she went to her.
Charlotte had scarcely perceived what was going on. The old man's
singing had made her a little sad. She, too, was thinking of "what love
could do." She was standing under the tree, leaning against the great
mossy trunk. Her brown hair had fallen loose, her cheeks were flushed,
her lips crimson, her whole form a glowing picture of youth in its
perfect beauty and freshness. Sophia was out of hearing. Julius stepped
close to her. His soul was in his face; he spoke like a man who was no
longer master of himself.
"Charlotte, I love you. I love you with all my heart."
She looked at him steadily.
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