And then Barbara rose, and shook off such disturbing thoughts.
"I must go in now," she said. "I have finished the work I brought out to do."
With Chris, Jean was bright and girlish; she admired her cheery practical common sense, and learnt many a lesson from seeing her at work amongst her poultry and flowers.
One afternoon, Jean wandered out by herself over the meadows that led down to the river. There were times when the bustle and noise of the farmyard drove her out and away from it. As she got nearer the river, that delicious coolness that running water always brings in its train, refreshed and soothed her spirit. And then suddenly, she heard a voice, and Charlie Oxton, in a fisherman's suit and a fishing-line in hand, stepped up on the bank from the grey boulders below and confronted her with a broad smile of recognition.
"Hullo! Where do you spring from?" he said. "I've come down for a week's fishing, and am putting up at the Long Elm. How extraordinary to run up against you here!"
Jean looked at him straight.
"You knew I was coming here," she said; "for I told you so."
"Did I?" he said in some confusion. "I've such a bad memory. I hear so much when I'm in town, that I get quite muddled. On my honour, you could have knocked me down when I saw you walking down this way?"
"I thought you were farming," Jean said, still with a spice of severity in her tone. "This is a busy month with most farmers. How can you leave your hay?"
"I don't cut mine till July. You are forward in these parts. I'm just having a holiday before my busy time begins. Do you like fish? I've caught a splendid fat trout. Come and have a look at him."