“What I ask you is”—the darker of the two was saying.
“For Heaven’s sake be silent till we get farther on, Rob, and I’ll tell you all you want to know.”
There was silence for awhile, and the two young men walked rapidly on, turning through a woodland path, when the trees caught the rod of the one addressed as Rob, and he cast it impatiently aside, stopping short directly after in an opening where the path wound round the brink of a deep gravel-pit, the wayfarer being protected from a fall by a stout oaken railing.
“Now, sir,” exclaimed the first speaker excitedly; “no one can hear us.”
“No,” said the fair man in a nervous, hesitating way. “Go on; say what you have to say.”
“It is soon said, James Huish. I have been away with my regiment in Canada two years. Previous to that chance threw me into the company of a sweet, pure girl, little more than a child then. I used to come down here fishing.”
“You did!” exclaimed the other hoarsely.
“I did, and visited at that cottage time after time. Man, man, I tell you,” he continued, speaking rapidly in his excitement, “the recollection of those days has been my solace in many a bitter winter’s night, and I have looked forward to my return as the great day of my existence.”
“Stop!” said the other nervously. “Tell me this, Rob: did she—did she love you?”
“Love me?” exclaimed the other passionately: “no. How could I expect it? She was a mere child, budding into maidenhood; but her eyes brightened when I came, and she was my little companion here in the happy days that can never be recalled. James Huish, I loved that girl with all my soul. My love has grown for her, and my first thought was to seek her on my return, and try to win her for my wife.”