The walk was a silent one. It did not seem as if they had any topic in common. They seemed to have nothing to talk about. But their silence was not the silence of strangers; it was that which exists only between the closest of friends. They had not had such a stroll side by side since she had given her promise to Mr. Long. But how many walks they had had together in the old days! Their thoughts flashed back to those days on the perfume of the rosebuds. They had often walked among the roses.
It was Dick who broke the silence.
“I do not think that a better man lives than Mr. Long,” said he.
She sighed.
He glanced down at her in surprise. He was almost irritated by her sigh.
She did not speak.
“I do not believe that a better man lives in the world,” he said with emphasis. “Surely you do not think that he is to blame for what took place here to-day, Betsy?”
“Oh, no, no! he behaved like—like a man,” she replied at once. “And he has given us his assurance that there will be no duel,” she added joyfully.
“Yes, he has given us that assurance,” said Dick. “But even if there were to be a duel, I have no doubt that he would show himself to be as brave a man.”
“But there will be no duel—he said so,” she cried. “And to think of that foolish rumour that went round the town, that you and he had fought! I never believed it for a moment. It was senseless—cruel! The gossips circulated the report simply because it was known that you had been with him for more than an hour on the day after you had saved him from his assailants.”