“And—­you may permit me one question—­does this danger come from Northmour?” I asked.

“From Mr. Northmour?” she cried.  “Oh, no, he stays with us to share it.”

“While you propose that I should run away?” I said.  “You do not rate me very high.”

“Why should you stay?” she asked.  “You are no friend of ours.”

I know not what came over me, for I had not been conscious of a similar weakness since I was a child, but I was so mortified by this retort that my eyes pricked and filled with tears, as I continued to gaze upon her face.

“No, no,” she said, in a changed voice; “I did not mean the words unkindly.”

“It was I who offended,” I said; and I held out my hand with a look of appeal that somehow touched her, for she gave me hers at once, and even eagerly.  I held it for awhile in mine, and gazed into her eyes.  It was she who first tore her hand away, and, forgetting all about her request and the promise she had sought to extort, ran at the top of her speed, and without turning, till she was out of sight.  And then I knew that I loved her, and thought in my glad heart that she—­she herself—­was not indifferent to my suit.  Many a time she has denied it in after days, but it was with a smiling and not a serious denial.  For my part, I am sure our hands would not have lain so closely in each other if she had not begun to melt to me already.  And, when all is said, it is no great contention, since, by her own avowal, she began to love me on the morrow.

And yet on the morrow very little took place.  She came and called me down as on the day before, upbraided me for lingering at Graden, and, when she found I was still obdurate, began to ask me more particularly as to my arrival.  I told her by what series of accidents I had come to witness their disembarkation, and how I had determined to remain, partly from the interest which had been awakened in me by Northmour’s guests, and partly because of his own murderous attack.  As to the former, I fear I was disingenuous, and led her to regard herself as having been an attraction to me from the first moment that I saw her on the links.  It relieves my heart to make this confession even now, when my wife is with God, and already knows all things, and the honesty of my purpose even in this; for while she lived, although it often pricked my conscience, I had never the hardihood to undeceive her.  Even a little secret, in such a married life as ours, is like the rose leaf which kept the princess from her sleep.

From this the talk branched into other subjects, and I told her much about my lonely and wandering existence; she, for her part, giving ear, and saying little.  Although we spoke very naturally, and latterly on topics that might seem indifferent, we were both sweetly agitated.  Too soon it was time for her to go; and we separated, as if by mutual consent, without shaking hands, for both knew that, between us, it was no idle ceremony.