She interrupted him. "I know what you mean. But I tell you truly, Hugh, I had not been walking with him, nor did I know he was by the stone wall looking after me, as you say." "And you had not seen him?" Hugh asked, now beginning to appear more like himself, and bending his smiling face down to look at her. But the smile vanished, as he met her faltering eyes. "Don't tell me, Dot, if you'd sooner not; only know that you can trust me, if you will, and I'll never fail you,--never!" These words, and the way they were spoken, settled all her doubts, and clasping her other hand over his, that still held her own, she burst forth impetuously: "Oh, I will tell you, Hugh. Only you'll promise me that you'll never tell of it, not even to Jack." The young man hesitated, but only for a second, as the sweet prospect of a secret between them--one to be shared by no other, not even her idolized brother--swept away all other thoughts. "I promise that I'll tell no one, Dot,--not even Jack." He spoke slowly and guardedly, the better to hide the mad beating of his heart, and the effort he was making to restrain himself from taking her in his arms and telling her what she was to him. Dorothy uttered a little sigh, as if greatly relieved. Then she said with an air of perfect frankness: "Well, Hugh, I _did_ see him--up in the wood, as I was coming from old Ruth's. He spoke to me, and I ran away from him." "What did he say?" Hugh demanded quickly. "Oh, I cannot remember,--he startled me so. I was dreadfully frightened, although I am sure he meant no harm." "No harm," Hugh repeated wrathfully. "It was sufficient harm for him to dare speak to you at all." "No, but it was not," the girl declared emphatically. "He and I are acquainted, you know--after a fashion. It was not the first time he has spoken to me, nor I to him, for that matter." Hugh's blue eyes flashed with anger. "I have a great mind to make it the last!" he exclaimed with hot indignation, and half starting from his seat. But Dorothy pushed him back. "Now mark this, Hugh Knollys," she said warningly,--"if you say aught to him, and so make me the subject of unseemly brawling, I'll never speak to you again,--no, not the longest day we both live!" And she brought her small clenched fist down with enforcing emphasis upon Hugh's broad palm. "What a little spitfire you are, Dot!" And he smiled at her once more. "Spitfire, is it? You seem to have a plentiful supply of compliments for me this day." She spoke almost gayly, pleased as she was to have diverted him so easily. He was now staring at her with a new expression in his eyes, and appeared to be turning over some matter in his mind; and Dorothy remained silent, wondering what it might be. "Dorothy," he said presently, and very gravely, "I wonder will you promise me something?"