My foolish heart began to beat wildly. What did it mean? Was that coming to pass about which I had wondered sometimes of late? I wanted to get away, and yet I could not have moved for worlds. I waited with my heart beating against my side.
But he did not speak, he only held my hand in his firmly, and I felt as though his eyes were upon me in the dark. I may have been wrong, but I felt as though his eyes were upon me.
All at once in the ivied wall above our heads an owl shrieked. We started asunder, and I felt almost as though I must have been doing something wrong, so hard did my heart thump against my side.
"Fancy that poor old barn-owl being able to frighten two sensible people," laughed Trayton Harrod. "But upon my word I never heard him make such a noise before."
I made no reply. I came out once more into the path, and, turning, held out my hand.
"The storm is over," I said. "Good-night."
"Oh, I must see you home," said he. "It's getting quite dark."
He walked forward with me, but the spell was broken, only my heart still beat against my side.
"You'll come in to supper?" said I, when we reached the gate. I felt myself speaking as one in a dream. The only thing that I was conscious of was a strange and foolish longing that he should not go away from me.
He did not answer for a moment, but then he said: "I'm afraid I mustn't. I'm drenched through; I shouldn't be presentable."