“This is my path,” he said.
Anne did not understand. She put her arm around Charles’ shoulder. “No, son,” she said. “The broad way is ours.”
“Go on, Charles,” Barnard told his boy, impatiently. “The broad path, Charles. Go on.”
But their son shook his head stubbornly; and his eyes were meeting the eyes of the girl, across the field. Barnard started to protest in anger; but Anne looked at her son, and saw whither his eyes led; and she followed his eyes and saw the girl.
The girl smiled at Anne, very humbly and beseechingly; and Anne put her hand to her throat and trembled.
Then she turned to Barnard, nodding ever so little; and she reached up to brush back a lock of hair upon the forehead of her tall son, and she buttoned a button of his coat.
“Go bravely, Charles,” she whispered. “Good-by.”
He kissed her hurriedly. “I’ll be back,” he promised. “I’m not going far away from you.”
Anne shook her head wistfully; but Charles was already running down the narrow path and did not see; and when Dick shouted after him, Charles did not hear.
They watched, and after a little they saw Charles and the girl come together; and presently their son and the strange girl went happily off across the meadow, out of their sight, hand in hand....