He resolved to try.

He dared not look that future in the face which should take her from him.
The time drew near; the day was settled on which the "Seagull" was to set sail, and yet Hugh Fernely had won no promise from Beatrice Earle.
One morning Hugh met her at the stile leading from the field into the meadow lane--the prettiest spot in Knutsford.

The ground was a perfectly beautiful carpet of flowers--wild hyacinths, purple foxgloves, pretty, pale strawberry blossoms all grew there.

The hedges were one mass of wild roses and woodbine; the tall elm trees that ran along the lane met shadily overhead; the banks on either side were radiant in different colored mosses; huge ferns surrounded the roots of the trees.
Beatrice liked the quiet, pretty, green meadow lane.

She often walked there, and on this eventful morning Hugh saw her sitting in the midst of the fern leaves.