"The sweetest, the dearest, the best word in the world."
"What word was it?"
"Margaret--Margaret--Margaret!"
"O Philip! And everybody heard it!"
"I left it behind me--no, I didn't; I wouldn't part with it. Part with it! Never, while my heart beats! Yet I did lose it too, for an echo stole it--and I heard it singing Margaret as I rode on."
They were talking together in the open; there was a light in the sky, but the moon had not yet risen. Ten minutes afterwards he said:
"Now read my letter."
"I can't see it," placing her eyes close to it; "it's too dark."
"Not for my eyes." He bent his head to hers; their cheeks touched. "'Dear madam,' he commenced, 'my name is Philip Rowe----'"
"What a stupid commencement!" she said, laughing.