He rested on his sculls, and the boat drifted under the drooping branches of a willow-tree. He never forgot the picture that then presented itself--the clear deep water, the green trees, and the beautiful face looking at him. "Norman," she said, in a clear, low voice, "I want to tell you that I overheard all that you said to the Duchess of Aytoun. I could not help it--I was so near to you."
She was taking the difficulty into her own hands! He felt most thankful.
"Did you, Philippa? I thought you were engrossed with the gallant captain."
"Did you really and in all truth mean what you said to her?" she asked.
"Certainly; you know me well enough to be quite sure that I never say what I do not mean."
"You have never yet seen the woman whom you would ask to be your wife?" she said.
There was a brief silence, and then he replied:
"No, in all truth, I have not, Philippa."
A little bird was singing on a swaying bough just above them--to the last day of her life it seemed to her that she remembered the notes. The sultry silence seemed to deepen. She broke it.
"But, Norman," she said, in a low voice, "have you not seen me?"