he answered, they entered the 
garden under an arch over which a rose-vine ran. 

" I do not think I misunderstood any ," he said, quietly. 
" I knew how the poem would  you, and therefore I did 
not wordnetdesire you to see it. There is an odd kind of  be- 
tween us  there has been from the first. I felt that it would 
 you ; but you must not  that, for a moment, I did you 
any injustice." 

"Are you sure that j^oudidnot?" she asked. "Are you 
sure that you know why it pained me?" 

She turned as she spoke, and looked at him with her candid 
eyes, which, whether he would or not, seemed to compel a truth- 
ful answer. 

" I imagined that I knew exactly why it pained you," he 
replied. " You felt the tenderest , and you have still  may 
I say this, sure that you will not misunderstand ?  the memory 
of wordnetdesire." 

" I am glad that you have been frank enough to say this to 
me," she answered, a deeper color flickering into her cheeks, but 
her eyes remaining steady in their grave . " In justice to 
myself I must tell you that you are mistaken. Poor Gordon I 
what I