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Well, what happened that time?"
An almost imperceptible alteration in her bearing; a slight droop of her
head perhaps--a mere nothing--made her look more demure than ever.
"I had left the cottage," she began a little hurriedly. "I was walking
along the road--you know, _the_ road. I had made up my mind I was not
coming back this time."
I won't deny that these words spoken from under the brim of her hat (oh
yes, certainly, her head was down--she had put it down) gave me a thrill;
for indeed I had never doubted her sincerity. It could never have been a
make-believe despair.
"Yes," I whispered. "You were going along the road."
"When . . . " Again she hesitated with an effect of innocent shyness
worlds asunder from tragic issues; then glided on . . . "When suddenly
Captain Anthony came through a gate out of a field."
I coughed down the beginning of a most improper fit of laughter, and felt
ashamed of myself. Her eyes raised for a moment seemed full of innocent
suffering and unexpressed menace in the depths of the dilated pupils
within the rings of sombre blue.


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