She had gone but a few steps when in her hurry she tripped over the mound
of a small, unmarked grave and fell to the ground.
Gifford ran to her and taking her arm assisted her to rise.
"Miss Morriston!" he exclaimed, for he now was sure of her identity. "I
hope you are not hurt," he added mechanically, his mind full of a greater
and more critical contingency.
"Mr. Gifford!" she responded; but he was sure she had not recognized him
then for the first time. "Oh, no, thank you; I am not in the least hurt.
It was stupid of me to trip and fall like that. Are you going to church?"
she added, evidently wishing to get away.
"I was," he answered. "And you?"
"I was too," she said, conquering her embarrassment, "but I have a
headache, and prefer the fresh air. Don't let me keep you," she held out
her hand. "Service has begun."
He took her hand. "Miss Morriston," he said gravely, "don't think me very
unmannerly, but I am not going to leave you here."
In the bright moonlight he could see her expression of rather haughty
surprise. "I think you are unmannerly, Mr. Gifford," she retorted
defiantly. "May I ask why you are not going to leave me here?"
"Because," he answered with quiet decision, "Mr.
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