His laugh was not out-breaking, but the girl saw embarrassment drop as a cloak from his manner, and a flicker of amusement in his eyes; and the quickness of the change was a bit bewildering to her. The word upon her lips was stayed as she looked steadily at him as if for an explanation.
Rutledge spoke first,—but he did not presume upon his unfair advantage. All the tenderness of his soul was bowing before the clear-eyed young woman as she stood there so adorable, swinging her black hat in her hand, the light hill-breeze stirring the loose strands of sunlit hair about her temples and the folds of her simple summery mourning dress. If he had obeyed the impulse he would have knelt to kiss the hem of that dress. Emboldened by the words of her letter, he could not even then with unseemly assurance come to her heart to possess it. Confidently as he came to claim it, he drew near to her love as one whose steps approach a shrine.
"It is a very pleasant surprise to find you up here," he said. "And this view is a surprise also—a revelation. They did not tell me at the hotel that such an one was to be had from this hill."
Elise was deceived by his words, and convinced that the merest chance had appointed this meeting: and yet she could not dismiss from her mind the question, "Why did he walk so straight at me as he came up the hill?" His words, however, put the situation on an impersonal basis and her reply in kind established the conventional status.
They talked of indifferent things, and she was speaking of the splendour that was flaming in the west when the man's impatience broke the bands he had put upon it.
"Elise, I love you, and I want you to be my wife." It was abrupt but it was in tones of humble entreaty.
Taken completely unawares, Elise turned quickly about from the sunset to look at him. Her gray eyes weighed his truth in the balance for five seconds. His manner was softened and natural, his face and attitude spoke love in every line. Her eyes dropped before his, and a rich colour came to her throat, cheek and temple as she turned again to the golden west.
Rutledge made a step toward her as if to take her. Her hand went up to stay him, though the lovelight was on her face.
"Don't," she said gently. She was disposed to play with her happiness, to hold him at arm's length. "Why do you come to me again, Mr. Rutledge? You have had my answer once, and it must have convinced you." Her words and her manner were contradictory, and Rutledge was confused. "You plead without hope. You told the people yesterday that you had not even the hope to be engaged to me. Why pursue a hopeless—no, no, don't!" she again commanded as, ignoring her words, he moved to answer her smile.
"And it's better so, Mr. Rutledge. You yourself have said it; and you can hardly expect me to gainsay it."