aquine!_' he said, 'but you shall not laugh me out of countenance. If
I said all that to you just now, may I be forgiven. One purpose, one
only, brought me from Norway, forbade me to go to Scotland, drew me to
Whinborough, guided me up your valley--the purpose of seeing your face!'

It could not be said at that precise moment that he had attained it.
Rather she seemed bent on hiding that face quite away from him. It
seemed to him an age before, drawn by the magnetism of his look, her
hands dropped, and she faced him, crimson, her breath fluttering a
little. Then she would have spoken, but he would not let her. Very
tenderly and quietly his hand possessed itself of hers as he knelt
beside her.

'I have been in exile for two months--you sent me. I saw that I troubled
you in London. You thought I was pursuing you--pressing you. Your manner
said "Go!" and I went. But do you think that for one day, or hour, or
moment I have thought of anything else in those Norway woods but of you
and of this blessed moment when I should be at your feet, as I am now?'

She trembled. Her hand seemed to leap in his. His gaze melted, enwrapped
her. He bent forward. In another moment her silence would have so
answered for her that his covetous arms would have stolen about her for
good and all. But suddenly a kind of shiver ran through her--a shiver
which was half memory, half shame. She drew back violently, covering her
eyes with her hand.

'Oh no, no!' she cried, and her other hand struggled to get free,
'don't, don't talk to me so--I have a--a--confession.'

He watched her, his lips trembling a little, a smile of the most
exquisite indulgence and understanding dawning in his eyes. Was she
going to confess to him what he knew so well already? If he could only
force her to say it on his breast.

But she held him at arm's length.

'You remember--you remember Mr. Langham?'

'Remember him!' echoed Mr. Flaxman fervently.

'That thought-reading night at Lady Charlotte's, on the way home, he
spoke to me. I said I loved him. I _did_ love him; I let him kiss me!'

Her flush had quite faded. He could hardly tell whether she was yielding
or defiant as the words burst from her.

An expression, half trouble, half compunction, came into his face.

'I knew,' he said very low; 'or rather, I guessed.' And for an instant
it occurred to him to unburden himself, to ask her pardon for that
espionage of his. But no, no; not till he had her safe. 'I gues