manner. "We shall not now have many days as fair as this one is." She wore
a gown of pale blue lawn, and had a great cluster of scarlet fuchsias in
her hand. Behind the garden bench on which she sat, there was a hedge of
fuchsias seven feet high and very thick. Her small dark head rested
against its green and scarlet masses. The little bay tinkled and murmured
among the pebbles at her feet. She had a book, but she was not reading.
She had some crochet, but she was not working. Allan thought he had never
seen her look so piquant and interesting: but she had no power to move
him. The lonely, splendid beauty of the woman he had seen in his morning
vision filled his heart. He sought Mary that hour only for Maggie's sake.

While he was wondering how he could best introduce the conversation he
desired, Mary broke the silence by a sudden question. "Cousin Allan, where
were you this spring? I have often wanted to ask you."

"Why did you not ask me? I wish you had, I should like to have talked on
that subject. I was in the Fife fishing district."

"Oh!"

"Why do you feel curious, Mary?"

"I have always thought there was something singular about that journey.
What took you to Fife? I never heard you speak of Fife before."

"It was an accident. My hat blew off, a Fife fisherman got it for me. I
liked the man, and went back to Fife with him."

"Accidents open the door to Fate. Now then, what singular thing happened
to you in Fife?"