of them once and kept them for pets. There was something white at Rebecca's throat. It fluttered in the breeze and buried her chin in snowy froth as she bent over her letter. It pressed an edge of transparent lace close against her cheek. As Nathan sat and stared at the lace he thought he saw the color of her cheek beneath it deepen.
Reba was fearfully afraid her color was deepening. She didn't want to blush just because a stranger stared at her. She could feel him staring, not stirring an eyelash, concentrating his whole attention upon her. Rude of him! Crude of him! she thought to herself. Wouldn't it be wiser if she corrected his erroneous impression, explained her presence, asked him if he had seen any one waiting for her here? She was on the verge of folding up her letter, preparatory to making some such speech when the soldier addressed her.
It was Nathan who spoke first. He didn't mean to. Her name came out all by itself. "Rebecca!" he exclaimed suddenly. He couldn't wait any longer. "Rebecca!" he repeated in a low voice, leaning toward her.
He wouldn't have frightened her for anything in the world, and he knew the moment she glanced up at him that he had frightened her. There was a startled, unprepared expression on her face. Moreover, she was evidently unable to speak. She just sat and looked at him and looked at him, as if he were the last person in the world she had expected to see seated beside her on the bench underneath the horse-chestnut tree.
He didn't realize how changed he was in her eyes. During his absence, whenever she had thought of him, it was never eyes, nose, mouth, features she saw, but
