"Mrs. Osborne, I beg your pardon for speaking as I did. My foolish habit of flippancy has misled me into doing a thing I had no right to do, or rather into speaking in a manner that I had no right to use toward you. I really think that my friendship for you, which you have not forbidden, at any rate, does give me the right to put you on your guard. I have not the remotest idea of the reason for the deception that you are practising, but surely it is a dangerous thing to keep it up."
His kindly tone and the manliness of his apology completely disarmed her.
"Oh," she said, clasping her hands in distress, "it is because there is so much at stake that I must keep it up. I am driven to it."
They were walking along the woodsy path now, but neither was noticing tree or fern or stream. After all, it is the human interest that overpowers every other.
"I do not wish to force your confidence, but—if I could help you—"
She shook her head. "You cannot help me. There is only one person in all the world that could help me, and he—"
She broke off abruptly, saying later, "Mr. Harcourt, I—I cannot explain, but will you not trust me that it is all right?"
"You have not set me a good example in trust," he said, looking down into her troubled eyes, "but certainly there has been nothing to shake my confidence in you—except in your judgment. If the time ever comes that I can help you, you know where to find me."
She put out her hand and he held it for a moment in his. Then looking at his watch he said, "I think it is time we are getting back." He whistled to Philip who was still proudly walking ahead, and when he came back took him by the hand and relieved the situation by devoting himself entirely to the child, showing him all manner of wonderful things that the woods contained.
He did not speak to Margaret again until they were in the bay path, and then it was only to call her attention to the different kinds of evergreens growing along the road, and to show her how to identify them.