'You here?' she said.
'Yes,' he answered, looking down upon her with that warm light in his eyes and his lips smiling; 'where else should I look for you? I have waited in the lane every morning in the week, and you have never come since—since that morning——'
'The Master is better,' she said, dropping her eyes; they were such sweet, shy eyes they could not meet the hot flame in his.
'And was it only to hear about the Master you came?' he said in a low voice that thrilled her and brought the colour into her cheeks.
'It was to tell me about him you came.' Her voice trembled in spite of herself, and her heart was beating tumultuously.
'It was because I loved you I came, Lucy—darling! I could not live without a sight of your dear face. I have lived a whole week without you, and it has seemed a year. You must not leave me alone again so long, darling!'
There was more in the tone than in his words, and Lucy looked up anxiously into his face.
He read the question in her eyes and he smiled gravely, almost sadly.
'No,' he said, 'thank God, not that!' and he stooped and kissed her forehead reverently between the bright brown ripples of her hair.