"Anna, oh Anna," he began so pleadingly, "have you repented of your
decision? Tell me that you have and it will make me so happy. I have
been so wretched ever since."
She thought he meant her decision about going to Saratoga, and she
replied: "I have not repented, Mr. Leighton. Aunt Meredith thinks it
best, and so do I, though I am sorry for you, if you really do care so
much."
Anna was talking blindly, her thoughts upon one subject, while the
rector's were upon another, and matters were getting somewhat mixed
when, "Arthur, Arthur, where are you?" came ringing through the woods
and Lucy Harcourt appeared, telling them that the refreshments were
ready.
"We are only waiting for you two, wondering where you had gone, but
never dreaming that you had stolen away to make love," she said,
playfully, adding more earnestly as she saw the traces of agitation
visible in Anna's face, "and I do believe you were. If so, I beg
pardon for my intrusion."
She spoke a little sharply and glanced inquiringly at Mr. Leighton;
who, feeling that he had virtually been repulsed a second time by
Anna, answered her, "On the contrary, I am very glad you came, and so,
I am sure, is Miss Anna. I am ready to join you at the table. Come,
Anna, they are waiting," and he offered his arm to the bewildered
girl, who replied, "Not just now, please. Leave me for a moment. I
won't be long."
Very curiously Lucy looked at Anna and then at Mr. Leighton, who,
fully appreciating the feelings of the latter, said, by way of
explanation: "You see, she has not quite finished that chaplet, which,
I suspect, is intended for you. I think we had better leave her," and,
drawing Lucy's hand under his own, he walked away, leaving Anna more
stunned and pained than she had ever been before. Surely if love had
ever spoken in tone and voice and manner, it had spoken when Mr.
Leighton was kneeling on the grass, holding her hands in his. "Anna,
oh, Anna!" How she had thrilled at the sound of those words and waited
for what might follow next. Why had his manner changed so suddenly,
and why had he been so glad to be interrupted? Had he really no
intention of making love to her, and if he had, why did he rouse her
hopes so suddenly and then cruelly dash them to the ground? Was it
that he loved Lucy best, and that the sight of her froze the words
upon his lips?