The copiousness of her vocabulary of abuse
surprised herself, and she did not shrink from tautology. She only
stopped at last for want of breath, and even then, as though she knew
how dangerous was silence, she bemoaned herself with sobs and sighs.
Then Richard, all tenderness and submission, explained his presence
there; showed how little he was to blame in the matter, and, indeed, how
there was neither blame nor shame to be attached to either of them;
spoke of his late interview with her father, gilding it with brightest
hopes, and cited the marvelous attributes of the Wishing-Well itself in
support of his position. He felt himself already her affianced husband;
the question of their union had become only one of time. She was
listening to him now, and had suffered him to kiss her tears away, when
suddenly she started from his embrace with a muffled cry of terror. Some
movement of beast or bird in the copse had made a rustling in the
underwood, but her fears gave it a human shape. What if Sol should have
followed them thither, as Richard had followed _her!_ What if her father
should have heard her leave his roof, as Richard had, or should miss her
from it--and--oh shame!--_miss him!_ "Home! home!" she cried. "Let me
go home." And she looked so wild with fright that he durst not hinder
her.
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