her hand against her heart which was palpitating with emotion. "I had no
thought of meeting you here."

"And I still less of seeing your ladyship," he rejoined coldly.

"How cross you are," she retorted with childish petulance, "what have I
done that you should be so unkind?"

"Unkind?"

"Aye! I had meant to speak to you of this ere now--but you always avoid
me ... you scarce will look at me ... and ... and I wished to ask you if
I had offended you?"

They were standing on a soft carpet of moss, overhead the gentle summer
breeze stirred the great branches of the elms, causing the crisp leaves
to mutter a long-drawn hush-sh-sh in the stillness of the night. From
far away came the appealing call of a blackbird chased by some marauding
owl, while on the ground close by, the creaking of tiny branches
betrayed the quick scurrying of a squirrel. From the remote and infinite
distance came the subdued roar of the sea.

The peace of the woodland, the sighing of the trees, the dark evening
sky above, filled his heart with an aching longing for her.

"Offended me?" he murmured, passing his hand across his forehead, for
his temples throbbed and his eyes were burning. "Nay! why should you
think so?"

"You are so cold, so distant now," she said gently. "We were such good