Have I said enough to soften your harsh judgment of yesterday ?" Ruth could not speak.

The trees were behaving in the most curious manner, were whirling round, were swaying up and down.

The beeches close in front were dancing quadrilles; now ranged in two long rows, now setting to partners, now hurrying back to their places as she drew near.
"Sit down," said Charles's voice, gently; "you look tired." The trunk of a fallen tree suddenly appeared rising up to meet her out of a slight mist, and she sat down on it more precipitately than she could have wished.

In a few seconds the trees returned to their places, and the mist, which appeared to be very local, cleared away.
Charles was sitting on the trunk beside her, looking at her intently.
The anger had gone out of his face, and had given place to a look of deep anxiety and suspense.
"I have not finished yet," he said, and his voice had changed as much as his face.

"There is still something more." "No, no!" said Ruth.