As they emerged from the village into the open country, Rufus felt that the hour had come in which to learn his fate from Neva’s lips. He revolved in his mind a dozen ways of putting the momentous question, but the manner still remained undecided when Neva sat down to rest upon a way-side bank in the very shadow of Hawkhurst park. This bank was her favorite halting-place when going on foot to or from Wyndham. It was shaded by a giant oak, and clothed in the softest and greenest turf. Here the earliest primroses blossomed and hearts-ease starred the ground. Near the bank a small private gate opened into the park. Rufus decided in his own mind that this was the spot, and this soft, deepening twilight the hour for the avowal of his love. There was no one within the park within view to interrupt him; no one coming along the road. With a slight sense of nervousness he even surveyed a way-side thicket that flanked the bank upon one side, as if fearing some way-side tramp might be lurking there within hearing, but he saw nothing to discountenance his projects. “It’s a lovely evening,” said Neva softly, looking up at the shadowing sky and around her at the shadowed earth. “The air is full of balm!” “Yes, it is lovely,” said Rufus, fixing his gaze upon the young girl, as if he meant his remark to apply to her face. “How the time has sped since I first saw you, Miss Neva. Life was very dark to me in those July days, but you have given it a glow and brightness I did not dream that it could ever possess. It seems to me that I never existed until--until I knew you. You cannot fail to know that I love you. I have often thought that you have purposely encouraged my suit. But be that as it may, I love you more than all the world, Miss Neva. Will you be my wife?” He waited in a breathless suspense for her reply. Neva’s face did not flush with joy, as it might have done had the speaker been Lord Towyn. She looked very grave, and into her eyes of red gloom came a sadness that was terrible to see. “I like you, Rufus,” she said gently, looking beyond him with a strange, far-seeing gaze. “I believe you to be good and honorable--would to God I did not--for then--then--Rufus, I do not know what to say to you. What shall I answer you?” “Say Yes,” pleaded Rufus, with the energy of a gathering terror. “Do not refuse me, Neva, I implore you. I am not handsome and titled like Lord Towyn; I am plain and awkward, but I love you with all my soul. I place my fate in your hands. I have it in me to become great and good, and if you will be my wife I will be noble for your sake. But if you cast me off, I shall perish. In you are centred all my hopes. Oh, Neva, I beseech you to be merciful to me, and to save me from the utter misery of a life without you. I cannot--cannot live if you cast me off!”