"I wish Major was here," he called to her.
"Why?" she asked, over her shoulder.
"Because it's the same kind of a procession we had around the parade-ground, and I enjoyed that so much."
Beatrice apparently had not heard, for she went on at the same leisurely pace. At her right, touched here and there with silver, the lake lay like a sheet of dusky pearl. Far in the east was spread the glowing tapestry of dawn, and the rising wind stirred the girl's hair faintly as she looked across the water, with the sunrise reflected on her face.
Ronald saw her pure, proud profile, touched to exceeding beauty by the magic light of morning, and an unconscious, childish wistfulness in the lines of her mouth. A lump came into his throat and he swallowed hard. The morning was in his blood, and he had a quick sense of uplifting, as if his heart had suddenly found its wings.
Then Beatrice turned still more toward him. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked, softly.
All of her harshness seemed to have fallen from her; she was radiant and exquisitely womanly in this new mood, and the boy's soul knelt in worship.
"Why wouldn't you let me come alone?"
"Because I didn't want you frightened," he answered.