ing branch. Ammon had not seen her before in the dress she was wearing. It was clinging mull of pale green, trimmed with narrow ruffles and touched with knots of black velvet; a simple dress, but vastly becoming. Every tint of her bright hair, her luminous eyes, her red lips, and her rose-flushed face, neck, and arms grew a little more vivid with the delicate green setting.
Ammon stopped short. She was so near, so temptingly sweet, he lost control. He went to her with a half-smothered cry after that first long look, dropped on one knee beside her and reached an arm behind her to the bench back, so that he was very near. He caught her hands.
"Elnora!" he cried tensely, "end it now! Say this strain is over. I pledge you that you will be happy. You don't know! If you only would say the word, you would awake to new life and great joy! Won't you promise me now, Elnora?"
The girl sat staring into the west woods, while strong in her eyes was her father's look of seeing something invisible to others. Ammon's arm slipped from the bench around her. His fingers closed firmly over hers, his face came very near.
"Elnora," he pleaded, "you know me well enough. You have had time in plenty. End it now. Say you will be mine!"
He gathered her closer, pressing his face against hers, his breath on her cheek.
"Can't you quite promise yet, my girl of the Limberlost?"
