"It was very kind of you to bring this over," he said, pausing beside the fence.
"Kind? Why, what did you expect? I knew it might hang there forever, but you would not come for it."
"No, I should not have come for it," he replied, swinging the lantern against the rails with such force that the glass shattered and fell in pieces to the ground.
"Why, what a shame!" said Maria; "and it is all my fault."
A smile was on his face as he looked at her.
"You are right—it is all your fault," he repeated, while his gaze dropped to the level of her lips and hung there for a breathless instant.
With an effort she broke the spell which had fallen over her, and, turning from him, pointed to the old Blake graveyard on the little hill.
"Those black cedars have tempted me for days," she said. "Will you tell me what dust they guard so faithfully?"
He followed her gesture with a frown.
"I will show you, if you like," he answered. "It is the only spot on earth where I may offer you hospitality."