She came on slowly, fear clutching her and a sense of guilt. When she reached the bench Richard lightly clasped the hand that she laid in his and drew her down beside him.
“Did you have a pleasant walk, dear?” he asked. He spoke quietly, but his voice was strained.
Anne did not speak and Richard turned toward her.
“Are you tired, brave little woman? And aren’t you going to tell me all about it?”
“Richard, what has happened?” cried Anne. “What can have happened since I left you so light-hearted, so happy, so boyish? Are you ill? You aren’t ill?”
“No, dear, but I grew old,” said Richard. “Tell me about it, Anne; don’t be afraid to trust me. Do you think I could blame you, sweet, or want anything but your dearest desire?”
“Oh, Richard, Richard, who has wounded you, what has happened?” cried Anne again. “Who has been here?”
“No one has been here but little Anne,” said Richard.
“Ah, little Anne!” She caught her breath. “There was nothing for me to tell you, Richard, dearest, but—what has she told you?”
“Little Anne’s perception, though limited by lack of full understanding, is truer than yours, dear. Little Anne had heard it said that it was not fair to me, so she came to put her knowledge into my hands, actuated by her extreme conscientiousness and without consulting her elders. So she acted directly and properly, as children will. It was true that it was not fair to me, dear Anne! But that little Anne came to me I might have gone on and made you wretched, you whom of all the world I most want to make happy! You see, dear girl, this was not fair to me; little Anne was right. I am not a dragon, devouring maidens, least of all this dear maid! And now aren’t you ready to tell me all about it? Tell me as if I were your brother. What did you say to Kit to-day? Did you promise him to come to me and tell me how dearly you loved him? He is a fine lad, dear!”