She waylaid him in a bypath.
"Daffodil!" he cried in surprise. "What has happened?
"Nothing, nothing; I wanted to see you," but her voice trembled. "Come this way."
"How mysterious you are!" If she meant to give him his congé she could have done it better by letter. And the clasp of her hand on his arm had a clinging force.
"There is something for you to see. Let us turn here."
After a space through intervening trees they came to the open, where she paused and unfolded a paper she had held in her hand. "Read this," she said, and he stared a moment silently.
One moment, another moment. How still it was, every bird had hushed its singing, even the crickets were not chirping.
"He will come back to America. He will come back for you now that he is free," Bartram subjoined hoarsely. Should he hold her or let her go? Was the old love——
She faced him and slipped both hands over his shoulders, clasped them at the back of his neck. It seemed to him he had never seen such an entrancing light in her eyes.
"Aldis," she began, with tremulous sweetness, "I would rather be your wife than the greatest duchess of them all." And then she hid her blushing face on his breast.