prepared for a recoil of her own argument.

"If you admit that it is possible--that it is possible to you!" he
said, quickly.

She saw her mistake. "We may not have many opportunities to meet
alone," she answered, quietly; "and I am sure we would be happier
when we meet not to accuse each other of impossibilities. Let us
rather see how we can communicate together, if anything should
prevent our meeting. Remember, it was only by chance that you were
able to see me now. If ma has believed that she ought to have been
consulted, our meeting together in this secret way will only make
matters worse. She is even now wondering where I am, and may be
suspicious. I must go back at once. At any moment some one may
come here looking for me."

"But I have so much to say," he pleaded. "Our time has been so
short."

"You can write."

"But what will your mother think of that?" he said, in grave
astonishment.

She colored again as she returned, quickly, "Of course, you must
not write to the house. You can leave a letter somewhere for me--
say, somewhere about here. Stop!" she added, with a sudden girlish
gayety, "see, here's the very place. Look there!"

She pointed to the decayed trunk of a blasted sycamore, a few feet