But as she stepped round the trunk of a large ash-tree that made a break in the path, she perceived that she was not alone in her enjoyment of the place and the hour. On the rude stile before her, with a book on his knee, which he was not reading, sat John Glynne.
It would be difficult to say which was the more surprised. Aldyth was conscious of an agitation which she could not at once control. She felt that she was blushing and trembling, as he sprang down and advanced to meet her. But she saw a bright look of pleasure in his eyes as he smiled on her and said, with all the old friendliness—
"Miss Aldyth! I am glad! I thought I should have to leave Woodham without seeing you again."
"That would not have been my fault, Mr. Glynne," she could not help saying. "Wyndham is not at such a distance from Woodham as to make it impossible to visit a friend who lives there. Perhaps you do not know it, but you are almost halfway to Wyndham at the present moment."
"I know," he said, with a smile. "Well, I deserve that reproach; but indeed I could not persuade myself that I had any right to call on you in your new home."
"Any right?" repeated Aldyth, biting her lips to hide their trembling. "That is an unkind thing to say. What have I done that I must forfeit your friendship?"
It glanced through her mind that perhaps he blamed her for supplanting Guy at Wyndham. If only he could know what it had cost her to do so! Must the loss of his friendship be part of the price?
"Nothing. How could you suppose that I would willingly give up your friendship?" he said. "But there were reasons why it seemed to me that I should not seek you under your changed circumstances."
"What have my circumstances to do with it?" asked Aldyth, almost impatiently. "Do you think so poorly of me as to imagine that I must change with my circumstances?"
"I am far indeed from thinking poorly of you," he said, quietly.