I had been on the point of retreating, but the girl’s distress altered my mind. By an irresistible impulse I rose and stood before her.
“Flora!” I exclaimed.
She shrank back with a smothered scream.
“Hush! do not be alarmed!” I added. “Surely you know me?”
“Denzil!” she whispered. “Oh, what a fright you gave me!”
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“The house was so warm—they have the stove red hot,” she stammered confusedly. “I slipped out for a breath of fresh air. And you?”
“I came for the same purpose,” said I. “This is a favorite spot of mine. But you have been weeping Flora.”
“No—oh, no,” she answered, in a tone that belied her words. “You are mistaken, Denzil. I—came here to think.”
“Of what?”