!" he exclaimed as he reached her. Then, after a swift
glance over the fields, he drew her into the shelter of the trees, and
holding his cigar in his left hand, kissed her lips.

Closing her eyes, she leaned against him, while the scent of tobacco
intoxicated her with its train of happier associations.

"You're looking all right, though your letters have been rather jumpy.
My dear girl, when you pounce on me like that you frighten me out of my
wits. You really mustn't, you know."

"O Jonathan!" she gasped, and clung to him.

"Why, I had to manufacture some excuse on the instant for coming down. I
couldn't tell what foolishness you'd be capable of if I didn't."

His tone was half caressing, yet beneath it there was a serious
annoyance, which killed the suffering joy in her heart. She was slowly
learning that it is not safe to remind the man of pleasure of his
obligations, since he is attracted chiefly by his opportunities.

"The time was when you wanted to come just as much as I," she said.

"Don't I still? Haven't I proved it by telling a tremendous lie and
rushing down here on the first train? Come, now, kiss me like a good
girl and look cheerful. You've got to make up, you know, for all the
trouble you've put me to."

She kissed him obediently, yielding to his casual embraces with a
docility that would have charmed him had his passion been in its
beginning instead of its decline.

"You're glad now you came, aren't you?" she asked presently pleading to
be reassured.

"Oh, yes, of course, I like it, but you mustn't write to me that way
again."

Putting his arm closer about her, he pressed her to his side, and they
sat in silence while the wind whistled in the tree-tops above them. From
their shelter they could see the empty chimneys of Jordan's Journey, and
a blurred and attenuated figure on the lawn, which was that of the old
negro, who passed back and forth spreading manure. Some swallows with
slate grey wings were flying over the roof, and they appeared from a
distance to whirl as helplessly as the dead leaves.

"You do love me as much as ever, don't you, Jonathan?" she asked
suddenly.

He frowned, staring at the moving figure of the old negro. Again she had
blundered, for he was disinclined by temperament to do or say the thing
that was expected of him.

"Why, of course I do," he answered after a pause.

She sighed and nestled against him, while his hand which had been on
her shoulder, slipped to