She was disturbed in her meditations by the sound of a quick and firm step behind her. Her first impulse was to turn her head, but she resisted it. The steps drew nearer; the hard road echoed distinctly. She drew slowly to the side of the road, so that the pedestrian, whoever he might be, might pass her. It was time she turned round and retraced her steps to the Hall, but she would wait a few minutes longer, until the man had passed her. Now he was almost by her side. She turned her head slightly and their eyes met. In a moment her face brightened, and her lips parted in an eager smile. He dropped a small bag he was carrying, so that he might grasp her outstretched hand. It was fate or destiny, and there was no use fighting against it.
"I have been wondering if I was ever to see you again," she said, in her bright, unconventional way. "You are quite well again, I see. Oh, I am so thankful! I would have called round, only—well, you see the conventions of this old country have to be observed even by an American."
"And you find them rather irksome?" he questioned, an eager light brightening his eyes.
"Well, on the whole I fear I do. But we have to take things as we find them, I suppose. Discipline, they say, is good for us."
"I believe that is a generally accepted doctrine," he said, with a laugh.
"But you doubt it?" she asked, looking coyly up into his face.
"I did not say so," he answered, jocularly. "Do you think I am such a doubter that I doubt everything?"
"Well, no," she answered, slowly. "I will not go quite so far as that. I guess there are still a few things you stick to."
"We all believe what we cannot help believing," he answered, enigmatically.
"Oh, what a profound utterance!" she said, laughing brightly in his face.