'May you be forgiven,' whispers Lippa, who has observed it all—but aloud she says, 'Won't you have some tea.'
'No thanks, really not,' replies Helmdon, 'but if I may stay, we may as well tell the fly to go away.'
'Do,' says Dalrymple rising, 'have you got anything with you,' and together they go back to the house, where Jimmy explains all, including Clotilde, and the kick.
'Thanks, awfully, old man,' says Helmdon, 'I couldn't make it out a bit, what!'
The evening is lovely, and two and two they gradually leave the drawing-room, to Chubby, who, his body in one chair, and his legs in another, is wrapt in peaceful slumbers. Mabel and her husband walk slowly up and down, before the house discussing their children and friends.
Quite unconsciously Paul and Clotilde take their way to the little church, and pause not till they come to their baby's grave. The moon shines down on them, as side by side they stand on the edge of the cliff, the dark ocean stretching out before them, a type of the unknown future that will be theirs.
Paul becomes aware that she is crying, and says, turning her face up to his. 'My darling, dry your eyes, we have all done wrong, but it is no use dwelling on the past, a future lies before us, in which by God's help, we will try to atone for the past, "Heaven means crowned not vanquished when it says forgiven."' For all answer Clotilde goes close to him, and lays her sad weary head against his shoulder.
'Paul,' she murmurs, 'how good you are,' and then there is a silence more eloquent than words.
In the meantime Jimmy and Philippa hand in hand have reached a cornfield.