"Humph!"
There was an awkward silence; St. Elmo Murray bit his lip and scowled, and, recovering her self-control, the orphan added:
"You put your shawl and book on the ground, and when you started you forgot them. I called you back and gave you your shawl; but I did not see the book for some time after you rode out of sight."
"Yes, yes, I remember now about the shawl and the shop. Strange I did not recognize you before. But how did you learn that the book was mine?"
"I did not know it was yours until I came here by accident, and heard Mrs. Murray call your name; then I knew that the initials written in the book spelt your name. And besides, I remembered your figure and your voice."
Again there was a pause, and her mission ended, Edna turned to go.
"Stop! Why did you not give it to me when you first came?"
She made no reply, and putting his hand on her shoulder to detain her, he said, more gently than she had ever heard him speak to any one:
"Was it because you loved my book and disliked to part with it, or was it because you feared to come and speak to a man whom you hate? Be truthful."
Still she was silent, and raising her face with his palm, as he had done in the park, he continued in the same low, sweet voice, which she could scarcely believe belonged to him: