"I lost my way," she faltered, with downcast eyes, vainly striving to conceal the tears that glistened upon her lashes.
"But you have been weeping!"
"I became confused and frightened," she explained. She was about to add, "it seemed so lonesome without you;" but the words remained unuttered.
As they walked side by side across the dewy lawn, Morton was not so much impressed by the incoherency of the explanation of her present condition as by the subtle change which had come over her within those few minutes. What could have caused it, he was completely at a loss to surmise; what it might portend, he could not conjecture; but that some mysterious change had taken place in her, he was as certain as though she had said in so many words,
"You should have been far-sighted enough not to have left me alone for an instant until I am irrevocably yours!"
He suffered the torture of a lifetime in those few brief moments; and the torment was all the more poignant that it was too vague to impart, even if he had dared so to do.
Long ere they reached the house, the silence became so oppressive that in sheer despair he was forced to break it.
"I found the book," he remarked with effort, displaying the dainty volume.
She did not offer to take it from him, as he expected, as he fondly hoped; she simply replied, with eyes intent upon the ground,
"I am sorry to have given you so much trouble."