Neither spoke until they were clear of the crowd and had reached a shaded walk, where they might converse without fear of being overheard.
Then turning resolutely to him,
“Espy,” she said, “I cannot bear this any longer. What is wrong? what is it that has come between us?”
“Why,” he said, coloring and looking down with a mortified air, “what have I done that you should ask me that, Floy? I have found no fault with you, as indeed,” he added quickly, “I have had no reason to do.”
“No, you have not found fault, but a change has come over you,” she answered sadly, “and it would be kinder, far kinder to be frank with me. Why should you not be?”
“Because you have not been so with me,” he retorted half angrily.
“I have not? Espy, you must explain; I insist upon it.” And she looked so pained that his heart smote him.
“Forgive me, Floy, darling!” he exclaimed. “I am a brute to hurt you so! But why did you leave me to learn of your changed circumstances from others? Did you fear that I would covet your wealth? that I would love it instead of you?”
“Oh, Espy! as if I could have so base a thought in connection with you!” she cried reproachfully.
“But why not tell me?” he said, coloring deeply.