She was startled presently by a drumming of hoofs; and she frowned as Brand rode out of the bluff. He had seen her, and she decided not to try to avoid him by walking on. If she must face a crisis, it was better to get it over. Brand got down and turned to her with a smile. He looked well in his wide, gray hat and his riding dress, for the picturesqueness of the fringed deerskin jacket, which was then the vogue at Allenwood, did not detract from his air of dignity. His features were regular, but his expression was somewhat cold.
"I'm glad we have met, and I'll confess that I expected to find you here. In fact, I came to look for you," he said with a smile.
Beatrice knew what was coming. While she felt that it would be better to meet the situation frankly, she nevertheless shrank from doing so.
"I have seen so little of you since you came home," she said, partly to defer his declaration, "that I haven't had an opportunity for expressing my sympathy."
"It was a shock," he answered. "I hadn't seen either of my cousins since they were boys, but we were good friends then, and I never expected to succeed them. Their yacht was run down at night, and when the steamer got her boat out only the paid hand was left."
"Will you go back to England now to live?"
"I think I'll stay at Allenwood. One gets used to Western ways—although there's a good deal to be said for either course, and it doesn't altogether depend on me."
Beatrice hesitated a moment, then:
"There is some one else to please?" she asked with charming innocence.
Brand drew a quick breath as he gazed at the young face so near him. She was leaning against a poplar trunk, the sun fretting her with gold between the bare branches, the wind caressing a few loose strands of hair that were blown across her cheek.