and a brown and ragged swath through the ferns. As he went on, the
anxiety and uneasiness that had possessed him gave way to a languid
intoxication of the senses; the mysterious seclusion of these woodland
depths recovered the old influence they had exerted over his boyhood. He
was not returning to Susy, as much as to the older love of his youth, of
which she was, perhaps, only an incident. It was therefore with an odd
boyish thrill again that, coming suddenly upon a little hollow, like
a deserted nest, where the lost trail made him hesitate, he heard the
crackle of a starched skirt behind him, was conscious of the subtle odor
of freshly ironed and scented muslin, and felt the gentle pressure of
delicate fingers upon his eyes.

"Susy!"

"You silly boy! Where were you blundering to? Why didn't you look around
you?"

"I thought I would hear your voices."

"Whose voices, idiot?"

"Yours and Mary's," returned Clarence innocently, looking round for the
confidante.

"Oh, indeed! Then you wanted to see MARY? Well, she's looking for me
somewhere. Perhaps you'll go and find her, or shall I?"

She was offering to pass him when he laid his hand on hers to detain
her. She instantly evaded it, and drew herself up to her full height,
incontestably displaying the dignity of the added inches to her skirt.