could guess at the torrent of passionate words which poured from his
lips, and at the eager light which was in his eyes!

The woman sat quite still, with bowed head, listening, but making no
sign either of consent or refusal. Gradually, the man grew more
confident, and at last stooped to take her hand, but she drew it
quickly away, and, raising her head, said something slowly and with
emphasis. He shook his head savagely, then, after a rapid turn up and
down, seemed to agree, bowed low to her, and went rapidly away toward
the house. The woman sat for some time where he had left her, her face
in her hands; then, with a gesture of weariness and discouragement,
crossed the lawn and disappeared among the trees.

For a long time I sat there motionless, my eyes on the spot where she
had disappeared, trying to understand. What was the meaning of the
scene? What was it the younger man had urged so passionately upon her,
but at which she had rebelled? What was it for which he had pled so
earnestly? The obvious answer was that he pled for her love, that he
had urged her to become his wife; but the answer did not satisfy me.
His attitude had been passionate enough, but it had scarcely been
lover-like. It had more of admonition, of warning, even of threat,
than of entreaty in it. It was not the attitude of a lover to his
mistress, but of a master to his pupil.

And what had been the answer, wrung from her finally by his
insistence--the answer to which he had at first violently dissented,
and then reluctantly agreed?

No doubt, if these people had been garbed in the clothes of every day,
I should have felt at the outset that all this was none of my