And he crossed the grass, and entered the beech-walk, which is broad and straight, with towering files of beech at each side, and a thick screen of underwood and evergreens, and turning the clump of rhododendrons at the entrance of the walk, he found himself, all on a sudden, quite close to Agnes, who was walking toward him.
She stopped. He fancied she changed colour: had she mistaken him for some one else?
"Well, Agnes, I see the sun and the flowers prevailed, though we couldn't; and I'm glad, at all events, that you have had a little walk."
"Oh! yes, after all, I couldn't really resist; and is Charity coming?"
"No, you are not to expect her till tea-time. She's gone with Miss Flood somewhere, and she sent me to tell you."
"Oh! thanks;" and Agnes hesitated, looking towards home, as if she intended returning.
"You may as well walk once more up and down; it does look so jolly, doesn't it?" said Tom; "pray do, Agnes."
"Well, yes, once more I will; but that is all, for I really am a little tired."
They set out in silence, and Tom, with a great effort, said,—
"I wonder, Agnes, you seem so cold, I mean so unfriendly, with me; I think you do; and you must be quite aware of it; you must, indeed, Agnes. I think if you knew half the pain you are giving me—I really do—that you wouldn't."