"You ought to be
showing someone the view really--and so ought I."
"Shall we show it to each other?" was his reply.
"Yes." And she sat down on the stone seat which had been placed for the
comfort of view lovers. "I am a little tired--just enough to feel that
to slink away for a moment alone would be agreeable. It IS slinking to
leave Rosalie to battle with half the county. But I shall only stay a
few minutes."
She sat still and gazed at the beautiful lands spread before her, but
there was no stillness in her mind, neither was there stillness in his.
He did not look at the view, but at her, and he was asking himself what
he should be saying to her if he were such a man as Westholt. Though
he had boldness enough, he knew that no man--even though he is free to
speak the best and most passionate thoughts of his soul--could be sure
that he would gain what he desired. The good fortune of Westholt, or of
any other, could but give him one man's fair chance.
But having that chance, he knew he should not relinquish it soon. There
swept back into his mind the story of the marriage of his ancestor, Red
Godwyn, and he laughed low in spite of himself.
Miss Vanderpoel looked up at him quickly.
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