'"And you are silent," I said.
'"My silence is easily explained," he said. "I was waiting to hear some remark fall from you as to these meadows and the river, which you have seen so often."
'"Which I see now for the first time, you mean."
'"Miss Wynne," he said, looking earnestly in my face, "you and I have taken this walk together nearly every day for months."
'"That," I said, "is—is quite impossible."
'"It is true," he said. And then again we sat silent.
'Then I said to him with great firmness, "Mr. D'Arcy, I'm only a peasant girl, but I'm Welsh; I have faith in you, faith in your goodness and faith in your kindness to me; but I must insist upon knowing how I came here, and how you and I were brought together."
'He smiled, and said, "I was right in thinking that your face expresses a good deal of what we call character. I should have preferred waiting for a day or two before relating all I have to tell," he said, "in answer to what you ask, but as you insist upon having it now," with a playful kind of smile, "it would be ill-bred for me to insist that you must wait. But before I begin, would it not be better if you were to tell me something of what occurred to yourself when you were taken ill at Raxton?"
'"Then will your story begin where mine breaks off?" I said.
'"We shall see that," he said, "as soon as you have ended yours."