Reynolds saw the traces of tears on her face, when at last she did come out to look for him, but he avoided saying anything to call up an explanation. She told him the story, however, in her straightforward, simple way, acknowledging her regret and her tears, and ending with some outright praise of Beresford's worthiness. "I am sorry he came," said Reynolds. "I felt for him when I saw him going away; but what else could you do?" "Did he look sad?" she inquired with perfect naïveté, a sweet sorrowfulness in her voice. "Oh, I couldn't tell, he was too far off," answered Reynolds. "It will all come right. We will not allow our imaginations to follow him. I must tell you my plans. I hope they will be your plans too." She lifted her eyes to his but did not speak. "First of all, Agnes," he went on, "will you be my wife?" The words fell dryly, strangely on her ear. They were standing close to a tree and she was lightly leaning against the bole. She felt a quick but vague sense of fear, or something akin to it, strike coldly into her heart. It was inexplicable, an almost irresistible impulse toward flight took hold of her. She could not speak. Something forbade it. "Answer me, Agnes: you will marry me, won't you, love?" His voice was low and appealing. Her trepidation and weakness were but momentary. She mastered herself by a strong effort, and, with a brave, earnest smile, put both her hands in his. "Yes, I will marry you," she said. He lifted the hands swiftly and kissed them, then he led her to one of the seats. "I have been planning such a delightful life for us," he began, and with passionate eloquence went on to disclose his idea of their going abroad, for a time at least, to live in Italy or Switzerland or France, together, for each other, the blissful life of love. Her imagination responded readily to his eloquent descriptions, and her face was soon aglow with enthusiastic interest. She had always dreamed of foreign travel, and the subject was one into which she could cast herself with all the abandon of a child. He saw with delight how his proposition pleased her, and he talked with a freedom and earnestness that were irresistible. They were now very happy lovers indeed, and the time sped on golden wings until a servant came to call them to luncheon. They had slipped away from the troubles that had haunted them into the true realm of the young--the rosy region of dreams. The mid-day meal at the DeKay place was not, as is, perhaps, the prevailing custom on plantations, the principal one. Dinner came on early in the evening and was all the more enjoyable on account of the delightful temperature of the hour throughout most of the year.