ot wish to spend another week
in sight of her home and yet banished from it, I said; I had cherished
certain hopes, and now I could not stand idle in their wreckage; I had
my work to do and was away to do it, but I could not leave without a
friendly good-by to her and without expressing a wish for her
happiness. This last was a subtle reference to Boller. Having made
it, the words which followed were astonishing, but they were born of a
faint hope that after all I might not have to go. I told her that she
knew best and I would forget her, and now I was going for a last walk
in the lane where we had spent so many happy hours, and then to take
myself to new scenes, bearing with me the memory of her as just a
friend.

The afternoon found me in the lane, on a knoll where the leafage broke
and gave a vista of rolling country. My eyes were turned to the hills,
but my ears were quickened to catch the sound of foot-falls. In my
heart I said that I should never hear them; my dismissal had been too
peremptory for me to cozen myself with so absurd an idea. But the hope
which had brought me there would not die. Sometimes the wind stirred
the leaves and grass, and I would start and look up the lane. Time
after time I was the victim of that teasing wind, and with recurring
disappointments my spirits sank lower. Then when an hour remained
before my train left, and I was standing undecided whether or not to
keep to my vigil, I heard a sharp crackle of dry twigs behind me.

Gladys Todd had come. She was carrying her sketch-book, and dropped it
in confusion when she saw me emerge from behind the trunk of a great
oak. I seized it and held it as a bond against her retreat, affecting
not to see the hand which she held out commanding its return. I had
planned exactly what I should say did she appear in just this way, and
now my well-turned phrases scattered and I stood before her, silent,
regarding her. It was just as well. My solemn eyes must have said
more than any wordy speech.

"I did not expect to find you here, Mr. Malcolm," she said, dropping
her hand as a sign of momentary surrender.

Her tone was one of genuine surprise, and though the statement was
astonishing I could not conceive a woman of her character deviating
from the straight line of truth, and the hope which had soared high at
her coming in answer to my subtle call now sank away. I held out the
book mutely.

She did not see it. "I was on my way to the