The path which led from the lawn to the river was concealed by a lilac-bush from Maud's hammock, and it was with a sudden quickening of the pulse that she heard a crisp step passing along it. It was a man's tread, so much was certain; it was certain also that it did not belong to any of the gardeners, all of whose steps, Maud had noticed, were marked by a sort of drowsy cumbersomeness, like people who are walking about a dark room. Soon the crisp step paused and began to retrace itself, left the gravel for the grass, and in another moment Anthony Maxwell came round the lilac-bush.
Maud did not feel in the least surprised; her unconscious self had probably guessed who it was. She rose from her sitting position on the hammock, but gave him no word or gesture of greeting.
"I came down on my motor-car," he said. "It was particularly hot. May I sit here a little while and get cool?"
"By all means," said Maud. Then, after a pause, "Do you think it was right of you to come?" she said.
"I don't think anything about it," he said; "I had to."
Maud hardened and retreated into herself.
"You mean, I suppose, that my mother insisted on it," she said, with a cold resentment in her voice.
"Your mother does not know I have come," said he. "I should have told her, but I thought she would probably have forbidden me."
"Indeed she would not," said Maud. "She would certainly have encouraged you."
"That would have been just as bad," said Anthony.
Suddenly Maud felt stimulated. During all this fortnight neither the gardeners nor the dogs had said anything so interesting. She sat down again.
"I should like you to explain that," she said, without confessing to herself that explanation was unnecessary or that she wished to hear him explain.
"It is this, then," said he--"we have both been put in a false position. We have been urged to marry each other, and you have refused me. It has not been fair on either of us. In spite of the pressure which has been put upon you, you have refused me; in spite of the pressure put upon me, I want nothing else in the world but that you should marry me. Mind, I quite sympathize with you, for if there is anything in the world which would make one wish never to see a person again, it is to have that person persistently hurled at one. I have been hurled at you. That is one of the reasons why I came here, to tell you that I sympathize with you. I am afraid people have made me an uncommon nuisance to you."