“You are welcome back,” said Miss Gordon, blushing deeply, “I thought you had left us never to return. We sent scouts after you in every direction, fearing at first you had lost your way, but Madam Herman thought that would be impossible.”
“But it was possible,” said Arthur, “for I did lose my way, and I hope you will pardon my having kept breakfast waiting so long, I do not deserve such kindness.”
“Oh, as to that,” said Grace Gordon, “there is no one injured but yourself, for I breakfasted an hour ago!”
Arthur was on the point of speaking of the troop of young people that he met coming out of the gate, but he stopped, for this was infringing on the rules—rules which he never forgot one instant. Miss Gordon seeing him about to speak, waited for a moment, and then proceeded to pour out his tea.
“And you really lost your way, Mr. Hazarelle, it is no wonder when you recollect how many windings and turnings there are. If I were to follow the cedar-hedge, I should undoubtedly be puzzled, for that doubles and winds about in every direction. Did you not meet any one in your walk?”
“Yes, several; I blundered along till I reached a gate,—”
“Indeed!” said Miss Gordon, “and was the gate open?”
“No, the gate was opened when I reached it, I saw one of the domestics, or rather he saw me, and it was from him I learned that the breakfast was waiting. Miss Gordon,—I never was placed in so awkward a position in my life. I have submitted to conditions, which, to one of my nature, are very painful and mortifying,—for you must yourself despise me for submitting to them.”
“You have acted honorably, Mr. Hazarelle,” said she, with much feeling, “and an honorable man must always be respected. You may be assured that I deeply feel for the mortification and privations you endure, and would lessen them if I could. One day or other—very soon perhaps—you will learn why you have been thus bound down to rules which must at least appear strange, if not ridiculous. You will find us grateful for the service you have rendered me, and I hope to be under obligations to you for several months to come.”
“Grateful!—Miss Gordon,—it is for me to speak of gratitude, for there has been as much happiness crowded in the few months of my residence here as would spread over the whole of an ordinary life. I shall leave my heart, and all that life is worth in this beautiful retreat, and that I may not be utterly miserable by incurring your hate, it is better for me to go as soon as possible.”