He bent close, looked into her shadowy face for a moment, then
found her hand, where it lay in her lap, lifted it in both his own, and
pressed it, for a long, tense moment, against his lips. She felt the
contact burn against the cool flesh, and it made intelligible all that he
would not allow himself to say, in terms which no woman could mistake.
Then he sprang up from the bench.
"Will you walk as far as the house with me?" he asked, gently. "Or shall
I leave you here? It is late: I don't quite like to leave you here
alone."
"I will go with you," she answered, and, rising, drew her skirts about
her. He stood beside her for a moment, looking down at her white figure,
outlined against the darkness behind them. She heard him take one deep,
slow inspiration, like a swimmer who fills his lungs before plunging into
the water; she heard the quick release of the breath, followed by his
voice, saying, with an effort at naturalness:
"If I had such a place as this, where I'm staying, I should be tempted to
bring out a blanket and sleep in it to-night."
"One might do worse," she answered. "These branches have been so long
untrimmed that it takes a heavy shower to dampen the ground beneath."
They made their way back along the straggling paths, and came to the
cottage, from whose windows streamed the lamplight that waited for
Charlotte.
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