“It is only Burgwan who bids you good-bye,” I said.
“It is better so. It is only Burgwan whom I can remember.”
She paused a moment, her eyes wistfully on mine, and then impulsively held out her hand again.
This time I was carrying it to my lips when I remembered, checked myself, and let it fall. She was trembling violently, and her breathing was deep and laboured. As I loosed her hand I heard her catch her breath; and looking up I saw she was very white, the lips were almost bloodless as she bit them in the battle with her agitation.
We stood thus looking into one another’s eyes for some seconds.
Poor little woman, she was finding it very hard; and a fierce yearning came upon me to clasp her to my heart and urge her to let love have its way and trust herself to the care of my love.
But it was her moment of weakness, and one of us two must be strong. I believe she knew by love’s instinct the thought that thus rushed upon me, for her hands were half raised and a great flush of colour spread over her pale cheeks.
I stepped back and dropped my eyes to the ground. There was a half-smothered sob, the brush of her skirts, the light touch of her foot-fall on the path; and when I lifted my head she had gone, hurrying down the hillside, and Chris was looking after her and then back at me whining in doubt.
I watched her go, hoping she would turn her head; but she held on steadily and was nearing the bottom when Chris gave a short bark and scampered after her at a mad gallop, reaching her just before a bend in the path would have hidden her.
I hoped she would take him with her; but she did not. She stopped and petted him, letting him fawn upon her in his loving way, and stooped and kissed him, and then I saw her point up the hill toward me.