The boat swept boldly toward the western shore.
Diane raised questioning eyes to his.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I'm sorry," said Philip. "I did mean to tell you before. It's abduction."
"Abduction!"
"I'm to be married in the village to-night. And I'm awfully afraid the benevolent old gentleman in the parsonage is waiting. He promised. Diane, I can't pretend to swing this function without you!"
"Philip!" faltered Diane and meeting his level, imploring gaze, laughed and colored deliciously.
"A matrimonial pirate!" said Philip. "That's what I am. I've got to be."
"Aunt Agatha!" whispered Diane despairingly.
"I'll patch it up with Aunt Agatha," promised Philip. "You forget I'm in strong with her now. Didn't I rescue a dime from the fish?"
"And the Seminole girl makes her lover a shirt--it's always customary--"
"You've forgotten," said that young practician with his most charming smile, "I've a shirt mended nicely along the sleeve and shoulder by my lady's fingers. Indeed, dear, I have it on! And to-morrow--it's Arcadia for you and me--"
Somehow, with the words came a flood of memory pictures. There was Philip by the camp fire in Arcadia whittling his ridiculous wildwood pipe; Philip aboard the hay-camp and Philip in the garb of a nomadic Greek; Philip unwinding the music-machine for the staring Indians and building himself a tunic with Sho-caw's sewing machine; Philip and a moon above the marsh-Utter loyalty and unchanging protection! Shaking, the girl covered her face with her hands.
The boat's bow touched the shore; whistling softly, Philip leaped ashore and moored it.
"Diane!" he said gently.
The girl raised glistening, glorified eyes to his face and smiled, a radiant smile for all her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
Philip held out his arms.
The silvered sheet of water rippled placidly at their feet. There was wind among the birches. They watched the great moon sail behind a cloud and emerge, flooding the sylvan world with light.
"Sweetheart," said Philip suddenly, "I thought that Arcadia was back there in Connecticut by the river, but it's here too! Dear little gypsy, it is everywhere that you are!"
"It will be Arcadia--always!" said Diane, "for Arcadia is Together-land, isn't it, Philip?"
The moon and Philip answered.