"Nothing: I am perfectly well; except for this neuralgia," she said, with a faint, vexed smile. "Did you have a comfortable journey, and have you breakfasted?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Then you will come out with me for a little stroll? I want to show you the grounds; and the others can spare you to me for a little while," she went on, with perfect ease and fluency. The only change in her manner was its unusual gravity, and the fact that she did not seem able to meet Percival's eye. "Are you too tired?"
"Not at all." And they left the room together.
She took him down the hill on which the house stood, by a narrow, winding path, to the side of a picturesque stream in the valley below. He had seen the place before, but he followed her without a word until they reached a wooden seat close to the water's edge, with its back fixed to the steep bank behind it. The rowan trees, with their clusters of scarlet berries, hung over it, and great clumps of ferns stood on either hand. It was an absolutely lonely place, and Percival knew instinctively that Elizabeth had brought him to it because she could here speak without fear of interruption.
"It is a beautiful place, is it not?" she said, as he took his seat beside her.
He did not answer. He rather disdained the trivial question. He was silent for a few minutes, and then said briefly:—
"Tell me why you wanted me."
"I have been unhappy," she said, simply.
"That is easy to be seen."