“But you'll not refuse my companionship?” said he. “We have scarcely spoken to each other yet.” And as he spoke he drew his arm within her own, and they walked along in silence.
“My mother thinks we did nothing but quarrel long ago,” said he, after a pause; “but if my memory serves me truly, it was upon this very pathway we once swore to each other vows of a very different kind. Do you recollect anything of that, Miss Henderson?”
“I do, Mr. Joseph,” said she, with a sly half-glance as she uttered the last word.
“Then why 'Mr. Joseph'?” said he, half reproachfully.
“Why 'Miss Henderson'?” said she, with a malicious smile at the other's confusion; for somehow Joseph's manner was far less easy than her own.
“I scarcely know why,” replied he, after a short silence, “except that you seem so changed; and I myself, too, am probably in your eyes as much altered—from what we both were, that—that—”
“That, in short, it would be impossible to link the past with the present,” said she, quickly; “and you were quite right. I 'm convinced the effort is always a failure, and prejudices in a hundred ways the good qualities of those who attempt it. Let us, therefore, begin our acquaintance here; learn to know each other as we are,—that is, if we are to know each other at all.”
“Why do you say that?” asked he, eagerly.
“For many reasons. We may not meet often; perhaps not at all; perhaps under circumstances where to renew intimacy might be difficult. Assuredly, although the path here might once have sufficed us, our roads in life lie widely apart now, and the less we travel together the more we shall each go towards his own goal, and—and the less regret we shall feel at parting; and so now good-bye.”
“You wish it?” said he, reproachfully. “You desire this?”