“You are everybody to me, love,” she answered bravely and cheerfully. “All will come right one of these days, and even if not, we cannot do without each other, whatever we can do without.”
Sunshine after storm: balm to the wounded spirit. It is probable that, for the time being, all considerations were forgotten, except that they were alone together. The summer air breathed warm and free around them. Underfoot the grass, recently mown, was short and turfy, beneath the shade of the trees couched a few lazy, ruminating sheep, and the drowsy roll of a mill-wheel, with its accompanying drip-drip of water, was just audible, but everything was soft and slumbrous in the silent meadows. They were alone—and he who had just bartered away his splendid birthright for the love of this girl beside him, felt that he had his reward. He could hardly believe that not an hour had passed since that tornado scene of wrathful passion in yonder Hall, which they could just discern through the trees.
“But, Olive, how on earth did you put in an appearance here just in the nick of time?” he asked presently.
“Pure accident. I had been visiting two bed-ridden crones whom Margaret had promised to go and see, but couldn’t. The path leading home struck into yours—so—so I couldn’t help being behind you and hearing your wicked words—and they were dreadfully wicked,” she answered mischievously. “But—hark!”
A male voice was heard approaching, alternately whistling and singing snatches of a popular song of the day, then a tall, active figure cleared the stile in front of them and drew up short.
“Hallo!”
“Oh, Eusty, you disgraceful defaulter. Is that how you keep your promises?” cried Olive. “Didn’t you vow you would come and meet me, and now I’ve had to walk through two fields full of horrid cows all by myself—and it’s no thanks to you that I haven’t been frightened to death.”
“Oh, here—ahem—I say, hold hard!” cried the Oxonian, quizzically surveying the pair. “All by yourself—eh? Well, it strikes me, young woman, you’ve fallen in with a pretty substantial escort.”
“But not until I had passed the cows, you detestable boy,” replied she, with a tinge of colour in her bright, laughing face.
“I say, Dorrien, she implies that you’re nobody,” went on her brother, without heeding her. “Says she had to come along all by herself. Rough on you, that—eh?”