avely--"and with me!"

"What am I expected to say to that?" she asked demurely.

"I think that you know what I mean," he answered, avoiding her eyes.
"Your villagers will certainly think it strange to see their mistress
walking with the poor missioner who wasn't allowed to hold his
services."

"I am afraid," she answered, "that my people have learnt to expect the
unexpected from me. Now tell me," she continued, "what has brought you
back to the scene of your persecutions? I am hoping you are going to
tell me that it is to apologize for the shockingly rude way you left me
last time we met."

"I did not know that you were here," he answered. "I came for two
reasons--first, to collect materials for a short article in a friend's
magazine, and secondly, to ask a question of Stephen Hurd."

"Apparently," she remarked, "your question annoyed him."

"He seemed annoyed before I asked it," Macheson remarked; "I seem to
have offended him somehow or other."

"I should imagine," she said drily, "that that is not altogether
incomprehensible to you."

So she knew or guessed who it was that had been Letty Foulton's
companion in London. Macheson was silent. They walked on for some
distance, climbing all the time, till Wilhelmina paused, breathless, and
leaned against a gate.

"I hope," said she, "that you are collecting your impressions. If so, I
am sure they must be in the air, for you have not looked to the right or
to the left."

He smiled and stood by her side, looking downwards. The village lay
almost at their feet, and away beyond spread the mist-wreathed country,
still and silent in the November afternoon. The wind had fallen, the
birds were songless, nothing remained of the busy chorus of summer
sounds. They stood on the edge of a plantation--the peculiar fragrance
of freshly turned earth from the ploughed fields opposite, and of the
carpet of wet leaves beneath their feet, had taken the place of all
those sweeter perfumes which a short while ago had seemed to belong
naturally to the place.

"To tell you the truth," he said, "I have been thinking more about
something which I have to say to you."

"Is it something serious?" she asked.

"Rather," he admitted.

Her eyebrows were faintly contracted. She looked up at him pathetically.

"It will keep for a little time," she said. "Let us finish our walk
first. I am down here alone, and have been dull. This exercise is what I
wanted. It is doing me good. I will not