So still was he that a weasel came along the green path, his neck erect like a snake in the grass, stopped, looked him straight in the eyes, and went by without fear. He gazed, rapt in the devotion of the artist, till a sense came over him like that feeling which the Greeks embodied in the punishment that fell on those who looked unbidden upon the Immortals. It was the strength and the perfect purity of the passion that held him there that also impelled him to withdraw. Slowly he worked his way backwards noiselessly, till, sufficiently far away, he rose to his feet, and hesitated. Then he made a detour, and stepped into the green footpath thirty or forty yards distant from her throne, and began to make a noise as he approached her. He rustled the fern with his foot; he seized a branch and forcibly snapped it, causing a sharp crack. A woodpecker, startled, flew off with a discordant "Yuckle!" the dove ceased to coo; the brown nightingale was silent, and sought a distant hazel-thicket. He lifted his voice and sang--he had a naturally fine voice--a verse of the dear old ballad, his favourite: "If she be dead, then take my horse, My saddle and bridle also; For I will unto some far country, Where no man shall me know." Off came his hat--she had risen and faced him, blushing faintly. Her deep grey eyes looked down, and the long eyelashes drooped over them, as she held out her hand. "I was coming to Greene Ferne," said he, "and lost my way in the copse." "You must have gone a long way round." "Never mind--my instinct guided me right;" then, seeing that the meaning he expressed behind the words still further confused her, he added, "It was quite accidental." Now Margaret had roamed out into the fields under the influence of a dawning feeling, which as yet she hardly admitted to herself, but which seemed to desire solitude. And he had surprised her dreaming of him. So she walked silently before him--the path was narrow--glad that, he could not see her face, leading the way to the farm. Outside the copse he came to her side, ruthlessly trampling down the mowing-grass again. There was a slight movement among the cattle in the next field, and they saw several persons approaching. They were May Fisher, Valentine Browne, the Rev Felix St Bees, and a tall, ill-dressed, shambling fellow hanging in the rear, whom they called Augustus. Instantly the thought occurred to Margaret that they would at once conclude her meeting with Geoffrey was prearranged. "We were coming to find you," said May. "We have lost you all the morning." Valentine looked sharply from one to the other, jealously suspicious, and barely acknowledged Geof's greeting. So Felix and he fell into the rear, Margaret went on with May, and Valentine accompanied them.