Why, I don't know, but as I trotted quietly along the lane, to overtake
Dulcie, whose horse was an exceptionally fast walker, I felt uneasy.

Presently my thoughts drifted into quite a different channel. All
recollection of the day's sport, of the pretty widow I had just talked
to, and of the impression she had left upon my mind, faded completely. I
was thinking of someone else, someone close beside me, almost touching
me, and yet--

Neither of us spoke. It was nearly four o'clock. The afternoon was
quickly closing in. Away beyond the woods which sloped upward in the
western distance until they touched the sky, the sun's blood-red beam
pierced the slowly-rising mist rolling down into the valley where the
pollards marked the winding course of the narrow, sluggish stream. Over
brown woods and furrowed fields it cast a curious glow.

Now the light of the winter's sun, sinking still, fell full on my
companion's face, I caught the outline of her profile, and my pulses
seemed to quicken. Her hair was burnished gold. Her eyes shone
strangely. Her expression, to my eyes, seemed to be entirely
transformed. How young she looked at that instant, how absolutely, how
indescribably attractive! Would she, I wondered, ever come to understand
how deeply she had stolen into my heart? Until this instant I myself
seemed not fully to have realized it.

Presently she turned her head. Her gaze rested on mine. Gravely,
steadily, her wonderful brown eyes read--I firmly believe--what was in
my soul: how madly I had come to love her. Without meaning to, I
started. A sensation of thrilling expectancy took possession of me. I