Brian took off the ugly, blue spectacles which he had adopted of late, and laid them upon the mantelshelf. He did not need them in the flickering firelight, which alone illumined the dimness of the room.
Elizabeth laid her shapely arm upon the mantelpiece and looked into the fire. He stood beside her, looking down at her—for he was a little taller than herself—but she seemed unconscious of his gaze. She spoke presently in rather low tones.
"The boys are late. I hope they do not often keep you waiting in this way."
"They have never done it before. I do not mind."
"They were very anxious to have you back. They missed you very much."
Had she missed him, too? He could not venture to ask that question.
"You will find things changed," she went on, restlessly lifting a little vase upon the mantelpiece and setting it down again; "you will find us much busier than we used to be—much more absorbed in our own pursuits. Scotland is not like Italy."
"No. I wish it were."
"And I——" Her voice broke, as if some emotion troubled her; there came a swift, short sigh, and then she spoke more calmly. "I wish sometimes that one had no duties, no responsibilities; but life would not be worth having if one shirked them, after all."
"There is a charm in life without them—at least, so far without them as that pleasant life in Italy used to be," said he, rather eagerly.