“Good-night!” he said, slowly. “Good-night!” in so low a voice that it seemed almost a whisper.
She walked through the clump of trees for a hundred yards perhaps, then stopped with a start.
In the spell that had fallen upon her, she had forgotten her book. She looked round and saw that he was standing where she had left him. She waited, and presently he moved, and going to the brook, knelt down and bathed his face and head. Then he went toward the horse, and calling it to him, got into the saddle. Not till he had got some distance did she venture to return.
Her book was there, and beside it the handkerchief with which he had tried to remove the stains from her dress; they were there still!
She took it up and looked at it dreamily; the whole incident seemed almost a dream! and saw in a corner, worked in red silk, the initials C. N., and above them a coronet.
She was about to drop the handkerchief where she had found it, but instead she thrust it out of sight in the bosom of her dress.
Then with a smile she opened the book.
By a strange coincidence it opened at the page upon which appeared the words that had proved such a stumbling-block to her, and half unconsciously she murmured:
“Good-night, good-night!”
What was it that made her start and brought the warm blood to her face?