It was growing almost twilight, but still she kept up that dreary promenade, struggling bravely with herself, and trying to restrain the agonizing thoughts which threatened to overwhelm her forced composure.
"He will not come," she muttered; "I must wait—wait—he will not come to-day."
She shuddered at the very sound of her own voice, but it seemed to have disturbed some one else; for a step sounded on the grass, and a man came out from the deeper recesses of the grove, and paused for a moment, glancing on either side as if uncertain which path to pursue.
It was Mr. North.
CHAPTER XX.
AN INTERVIEW IN THE WOODS.
Elizabeth saw the man and yet neither moved or spoke, but remained standing there in dumb silence, gazing at him with an expression in which so many diverse emotions struggled, that it would have been difficult to decide which feeling was paramount.
The flutter of her cloak caught his attention, and he came hurriedly forward with a smile on his lips, holding out his hand in an easy, reckless fashion.
"Ten thousand pardons," he exclaimed, "I fear that I have kept you waiting—I shall never forgive myself."