"How can you know? Who has told you? Whom have you asked?"
"There are some questions which it is not wise to put; questions whose answers may seem ungracious to give, and are sad to hear."
"But the answer might not seem so. And how can it be given until you ask it?"
Drayton turned and looked at her. His face was losing its resolute composure, and there was a glow in his eyes and in his cheeks that called up an answering warmth in her own.
"Do you know where my country is?" he demanded, almost sternly.
"It is where you are loved and wanted most, is it not?" she said, breathlessly.
"Do not deceive yourself—nor me!" exclaimed Drayton, putting out his hand toward her, and half rising from the rock. "There is only one thing more to say."
A sea-gull flew close by them, and swept on, and in a moment was far away, and lost to sight. So in our lives does happiness come so near us as almost to brush our cheeks with its wings, and then pass on, and become as unattainable as the stars. As Mary Leithe was about to speak, a shadow cast from above fell across her face and figure. She seemed to feel a sort of chill from it, warm though the day was; and without moving her eyes from Drayton's face to see whence the shadow came, her expression underwent a subtle and sudden change, losing the fervor of a moment before, and becoming relaxed and dismayed. But after a moment Drayton looked up, and immediately rose to his feet, exclaiming, "Frank Redmond!"
On the rock just above them stood a young man, dark of complexion, with eager eyes, and a figure athletic and strong. As Drayton spoke his name, his countenance assumed an expression half-way between pleased surprise and jealous suspicion. Meanwhile Mary Leithe had covered her face with her hands.
"I'm sure I'd no idea you were here, Mr. Drayton," said the young man.
"I was looking for Mary Leithe. Is that she?"