She knew him only by sight, and but slightly. She had no words for such as he—especially in an hour like that.
She moved not. Her eyes were averted. The intruder might have passed on, without receiving from her even a nod of recognition, had such been his wish.
It was only on hearing her own name pronounced, and seeing the man advance towards her, that the young lady took note of his presence.
“Mistress Wade!” muttered he, awkwardly uncovering his head, and making a bow of doubtful politeness.
“What want you with me, sir?” asked Marion, in a tone that betrayed both annoyance and astonishment.
“I’ve been follerin’ thee, mistress, all the way frae the big house. I wanted to see thee alone.”
“Alone! And for what purpose, sirrah?”
The interrogatory was uttered in a voice that betokened indignation not unmingled with alarm. No wonder. He to whom it was addressed was not the man, with whom a timid woman would elect to hold an interview, alone, and in the heart of a wood.
Was the rustic intruding himself with an evil intention?
The apprehensions, thus quickly conceived were as speedily dissipated by the woodman declaring himself to have come in the capacity of a messenger.