held. She thought he would be as much grieved as she was at what
had taken place that morning; she fancied she should sink in his
opinion if she told him how others regarded her; besides, it
seemed ungenerous to dilate upon the suffering of which he was
the cause.

"I will not," thought she, "embitter his life; I will try and be
cheerful. I must not think of myself so much. If I can but make
him happy, what need I care for chance speeches?"

Accordingly, she made every effort possible to be as
light-hearted as he was; but, somehow, the moment she relaxed,
thoughts would intrude, and wonders would force themselves upon
her mind: so that altogether she was not the gay and bewitching
companion Mr. Bellingham had previously found her.

They sauntered out for a walk. The path they chose led to a wood
on the side of a hill, and they entered, glad of the shade of the
trees. At first it appeared like any common grove, but they soon
came to a deep descent, on the summit of which they stood,
looking down on the tree-tops, which were softly waving far
beneath their feet. There was a path leading sharp down, and they
followed it; the ledge of rock made it almost like going down
steps, and their walk grew into a bounding, and their bounding
into a run, before they reached the lowest plane. A green gloom
reigned there; it was the still hour of noon; the little birds
were quiet in some leafy shade. They went on a few yards, and
then they came to a circular pool overshadowed by the trees,
whose highest boughs had been beneath their feet a few minutes
before. The pond was hardly below the surface of the ground, and