silence.

She made no movement toward him, but let the child glide softly down till
she stood at her side.

"I interrupted you," he continued; "will you shake hands with me,
nevertheless?"

She put her hand in his proffered one, which lingered in the touch; and
then, without looking at her, he stooped and spoke to the child. In that
moment she had time to compose herself.

"Do you often come up this way?" she questioned.

He turned from the child, straightened himself, and leaning one arm against
the tree, answered, --

"Once or twice every summer I run away from humanity for a few days, and
generally find myself in this part of the country. This is one of my
select spots. I knew you would ferret it out."

"It is very lovely here. But we are going home now; the afternoon is
growing old. Come, Ethel."

A shadow fell upon his dark eyes as she spoke, scarcely looking at him.
Why should she hurry off at his coming?

"I am sorry my presence disturbs you," he said quietly; "But I can easily
go away again."