"What a romantic thought! but I like it," cried Precious, and for some time both remained silent; listening to the low, monotonous ripple of the river.
She did not know that he wanted to be silent awhile to fight a battle with his own heart, to gain strength to bear a cross of pain.
"Well?" he asked her presently in a gentle voice.
She answered pensively:
"It kept whispering, whispering over and over, one sad word: 'Regret! regret! regret!'"
"Mine was similar," said Lord Chester. "Its burden was, 'Too late! too late! too late!'"
He looked at her, and she lost her pensive air and smiled.
"I felt quite solemn while I was silent," she said. "And it was several minutes before I could make out the river's words. I am sorry they gave us plaintive words."
"I was wondering," he answered dreamily, "whether each would catch the same word."
"Oh, that would have been very amusing," cried Precious.