"Only since a moment ago," he says smiling. "And now, after all these years, have you not a welcome for me?"
I hold out both my hands with a deep sigh. "If you only knew how glad I am you have come back!" I say—"how I have wished for you to come back! You have been away four whole years."
"And you remembered me all that while?" he says, looking down into my face eagerly—"you missed me?"
"So much," I say gravely, "that often I have said to Jack, that if I knew where you were I should write and ask you if you had forgotten your promise about the fruit garden."
"And that was the only reason you wanted to see me back?"
"Oh, no! I wanted to see you too."
He seems to have forgotten he is holding my hands, so I take them away.
"Are you married?" I ask, looking up at the dark strong face, that is altered no whit, save that the restless expression has fallen away from it, and a better, nobler look grown upon it.
"No."
"I am so glad," I say, clapping my hands; so glad, do not be angry with me, but after you went away I used always to think that when I saw you next you would be married to———"
I stop short, I had forgotten he does not know that I know that he loved Silvia Fleming; my cheeks turn scarlet as my poppies at my stupidity.
"Yes," he says, "and to whom?"
"No one in particular," I say, looking down at the grass; "it was only a ridiculous fancy of mine."
We walk on again, and there is a little pause in our brisk conversation; perhaps he is remembering, and I am recalling Silvia Fleming's vow, and marvelling if she has tried to wind him again, or forgotten her wild love in sober, respectable marriage.
