He had hoped to see her daily, and was not
disappointed. He had intended to permit his mind to receive such
impressions as he should choose; and now his mind asked no
permission whatever, but without volition occupied itself with her
image perpetually. He was not sure whether she satisfied his
preconceived ideals of what a wife should be or not, for she
maintained such a firm reticence in regard to herself that he
could put his finger on no affinities. She left no doubt as to her
intelligence, but beyond that she would not reveal herself to him.
He was almost satisfied that she discouraged him utterly and that
it would be wiser to depart before his feelings became more deeply
involved. At any rate he had better do this or else make love in
dead earnest. Which course should he adopt?
There came a day which brought him to a decision.
A party had been made up for an excursion into the Highlands, Miss
Madison being one of the number. She was a good pedestrian and
rarely missed a chance for a ramble among the hills. Scofield's
two rivals occasionally got astray with her in the perplexing
wood-roads, but he never succeeded in securing such good-fortune.
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