This laxity of emotional tone was further increased by an incident, when, two days later, she kept an appointment with Nicholas in the Sallows.

The Sallows was an extension of shrubberies and plantations along the banks of the Froom, accessible from the lawn of Froom-Everard House only, except by wading through the river at the waterfall or elsewhere.

Near the brink was a thicket of box in which a trunk lay prostrate; this had been once or twice their trysting-place, though it was by no means a safe one; and it was here she sat awaiting him now.
The noise of the stream muffled any sound of footsteps, and it was before she was aware of his approach that she looked up and saw him wading across at the top of the waterfall.
Noontide lights and dwarfed shadows always banished the romantic aspect of her love for Nicholas.

Moreover, something new had occurred to disturb her; and if ever she had regretted giving way to a tenderness for him--which perhaps she had not done with any distinctness--she regretted it now.

Yet in the bottom of their hearts those two were excellently paired, the very twin halves of a perfect whole; and their love was pure.
But at this hour surfaces showed garishly, and obscured the depths.
Probably her regret appeared in her face.
He walked up to her without speaking, the water running from his boots; and, taking one of her hands in each of his own, looked narrowly into her eyes.
'Have you thought it over ?' 'What ?' 'Whether we shall try again; you remember saying you would at the dance ?' 'Oh, I had forgotten that!' 'You are sorry we tried at all!' he said accusingly.
'I am not so sorry for the fact as for the rumours,' she said.
'Ah! rumours ?' 'They say we are already married.' 'Who ?' 'I cannot tell exactly.