"Why, that I would not trouble you, you know, Lois," he faltered. "Have you forgotten?"
"What!" Lois exclaimed, with a start, and a thrill in her voice.
"But I am sure," he said hurriedly, "it won't make you unhappy just to know that it is still an inspiration in my life, and that it always will be, and that love, no matter if"—
"Oh, wait a minute, Giff!" Lois cried, her eyes shining like stars through sudden tears, and her breath quick. "I—I—why, don't you know, I was to—don't you remember—my promise?"
"Lois!" he said, almost in a whisper. He dropped the bay's rein, and came and took her hand, his own trembling.
"I know what you were going to say," she began, her face turned away so that he could only see the blush which had crept up to her temple, "but I"—He waited, but she did not go on. Then he suddenly took her in his arms and kissed her without a word; and Max, and the horse, and the bob-white looked on with no surprise, for after all it was only part of the morning, and the sunrise, and Nature herself.
"And to think that it's I!" Lois said a minute afterward.
"Why, who else could it be?" cried Gifford rapturously.
But Lois shook her head; even in her joy she was ashamed of herself. "I won't even remember it," she thought.
Of course there were many explanations. Each was astonished at the other for not having understood; but Lois's confession of her promise to Mrs. Forsythe made all quite clear, though it left a look that was almost stern behind the joy in Gifford's eyes.