"Who is this Hugh?" he inquired, as they walked slowly along, the dry leaves crackling under their feet. "Is he the sergeant, Hugh Knollys, who went with your brother yesterday?"
"Yes;" and something in his tone impelled her to add, "and I've known him all my life."
"Oh, yes," he said, knitting his brows a little, as he kicked the leaves before him, "I remember right well. It was he I used to see riding about the country with you so much last summer."
"He is like my own brother," she explained quickly, not feeling quite comfortable in something she detected in his manner of speech.
"Is he?" now looking at her smilingly. "And does he regard you in the same fraternal fashion?"
"Why, of course," she answered frankly. "Hugh and I have always known one another; we have gone riding and boating together for years, have quarrelled and made up, just as Jack and I have done. Only," and now she spoke musingly, "I cannot remember that Jack ever quarrelled much with me."
"No, I should say not, from what I've seen of him," her husband said heartily.
By this time they were in the seclusion of the wood; and now his arms went about her and held her fast.
"Sweetheart, tell me once more that you love me," he said. "I only brought you here to have you tell it to me again, and in broad daylight."
She rested her head on his arm and smiled up into his face.