CHAPTER XX.
A WHITE SUN-BONNET My soul its secret hath, my life too hath its mystery: A love eternal in a moment's space conceived.
-- AROERS One lovely morning in August, about a fortnight after the garden-party at Glebelands, Malcolm Herrick sauntered slowly down the woodland path which the Templetons always called "the lady's mile." His face was set towards Rotherwood, and in spite of his loitering pace there was an intent and watchful look in his eyes; but what his purpose or design might be was best known to himself; for wonderful and devious are the ways of man, and who can fathom them?
Presently a tempting tangle of honeysuckle attracted him, and he clambered up the bank in search of it.

The bank was dry and slippery, and the honeysuckle was difficult to reach, but Malcolm was not to be conquered.

He had just caught hold of the branch, when the far-off click of a gate attracted his attention, and still holding the branch he peeped cautiously through the brambles.
The next minute a tall, massive young woman in a white sun-bonnet came into view-actually a white sun-bonnet, such as a milkmaid or farming wench might have worn; but this was no rustic lass who walked so briskly through the woodlands--none but Elizabeth Templeton moved with that free, graceful step, or carried her head in that queenly fashion.
In his hiding-place Malcolm had a good view of her face.

Her eyes were bright, and she had a soft smile on her lips, as though some thought pleased her--some dream's dream that seemed fair to her inward vision.
"Miss Templeton--" then Elizabeth gave a great start, and stood still and looked up at him.

"Wait a moment, please," he continued hurriedly; "this branch is so tough and my knife is small.