Their combes came out aslant in saucer-shaped shadows.
Alan turned and gazed at Herminia; she was hot with climbing, and
her calm face was flushed. A town-bred girl would have looked red
and blowsy; but the color and the exertion just suited Herminia.
On that healthy brown cheek it seemed natural to discern the
visible marks of effort. Alan gazed at her with a sudden rush of
untrammelled feeling. The elusive outline of her grave sweet face,
the wistful eyes, the ripe red mouth enticed him. "Oh, Herminia,"
he cried, calling her for the first time by her Christian name
alone, "how glad I am I happened to go that afternoon to Mrs.
Dewsbury's. For otherwise perhaps I might never have known you."
Herminia's heart gave a delicious bound. She was a woman, and
therefore she was glad he should speak so. She was a woman, and
therefore she shrank from acknowledging it. But she looked him
back in the face tranquilly, none the less on that account, and
answered with sweet candor, "Thank you so much, Mr. Merrick."
"_I_ said 'Herminia,'" the young man corrected, smiling, yet aghast
at his own audacity.
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