"Yes, you are the first--to congratulate me," which was true.

He still stood looking at her, and his hand would hardly let go the flowers where his fingers touched hers.

His face grew pale, then ashy-white and he steadied himself against her horse's neck.
"What is the matter?
are you ill?
have you hurt yourself ?" asked Margaret in real alarm, for he looked as though he were going to faint, and it was a full minute since he had come back to her from the roadside.

Then he made a great effort and collected himself, and the next instant he had dashed after his horse, which was wandering away towards the trees.
"I did feel queer for a minute," he said when he was once more in the saddle and by her side.

"I dare say it is the heat.