"I didn't notice his disappearance," he replied. "But we are alone—together. Are you not frightened?"
"Frightened? No!" she said softly. "Why?"
"A senseless remark. Do not notice it—or anything, I beg of you. I am quite too happy to weigh my words."
"Then you have proved the cook's theory correct; providing you have eaten—sufficiently," she replied. They both smiled, and darts of light from the stove played about their faces.
"Will you allow me—this night—to ride home with you?" he asked, watching the fantastic shadows upon her face and catching gleams of her deep eyes as they occasionally sought his own.
She hesitated a moment before replying.
"You think me a strange girl," she said. "I wonder what you will think of me now if I refuse this."
"I think nothing except that you are the sweetest girl I have ever known—and the noblest. I thank my Maker for having met you, and spoken with you, and sat here in the firelight beside you! Your ways are your own. I shall not—cannot question you, or impose myself upon you. Our lives, it seems, lie far apart. But I cannot help it—the words burn themselves out—I love you, Hope—I love you! Forgive me!" He raised her hand to his lips and left her standing alone in the firelight.
"He loves me," she thought, far into the quiet hours of the night. "He loves me, and yet he ran away from me!"