"
Here she glanced up at Barnabas and shook her head: "I fear I shall
never understand you, Mr. Beverley."
"That time will show; and my name is Barnabas."
"But how did--this poacher--know?"
"He was the man who brought you the letter from Mr. Chichester."
"It was written by my--brother, sir."
"He was the man who gave you your brother's letter in Annersley Wood."
"Yes--I remember--in the wood."
"Where I found you lying quite unconscious."
"Where you found me--yes."
"Lying--quite unconscious!"
"Yes," she answered, beginning to hasten her steps again. "And where
you left me without telling me your name--or--even asking mine."
"For which I blamed myself--afterwards," said Barnabas.
"Indeed, it was very remiss of you."
"Yes," sighed Barnabas, "I came back to try and find you."
"Really, sir?" said she, with black brows arched--"did you indeed,
sir?"
"But I was too late, and I feared I had lost you--"
"Why, that reminds me, I lost my handkerchief."
"Oh!" said Barnabas, staring up at the moon.
"I think I must have dropped it--in the wood."
"Then, of course, it is gone--you may depend upon that," said
Barnabas, shaking his head at the moon.
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