“I should like you to know my altered position before we meet. I shrink from shocking you by a personal explanation painful to us both. Forgive me, then, for inclosing papers which will inform you.”
The messenger brought back a note which showed marks of agitation:
“Please excuse me to-night. I will walk on the beach early in the morning.”
As the sun came up out of the sea, and he turned away from watching the splendid vision, he saw one that affected him more. She stood a little way off, looking intently seaward; and the morning took a new grace from the flush on her cheek and the light in her clear, calm eyes. His eyes grew dim as he looked at her. If she had felt any agitation, it was gone when she turned and waited for him to approach. She gave him her hand.
“Is it not a beautiful morning?” she said. “Don’t you think it should make us very gentle and unselfish?”
The falling cadence of her voice was more musical than the waves that babbled at her feet. They walked side by side along the sands.
“Yes,” he answered, “yes. If all mornings were like this——” he broke off and looked out to sea.
They came among scattered bowlders, and stood still. With diffidence she took out of his letter the paper with the printed slip attached, and gave it to him.
“You were not offended at my sending them?”
“No, I was glad you sent them. It was thoughtful of you.” She spoke low and seriously. “But do I quite understand?”