“That is a very earthly view to take of it, you unprincipled boy?” was the laughing reply. “Never mind, I needn’t drag you two children back with me; so continue your walk while I go and sacrifice myself to save appearances. Perhaps I’ll meet you somewhere about here afterwards, as you come back.”
“I do think that mother of yours is one of the sweetest women I ever met—Laura,” said Phil, as they turned to resume their stroll.
The girl’s face flushed with pleasure. “You never said a truer thing than that,” she replied.
“Rather not. Hallo! she’ll be late. At least a quarter of an hour’s walk, and there’s that cracked old tin-kettle whanging away already.”
A bell sounded upon the clear, pine-scented air. It was not a melodious bell—rather did it resemble the homely implement irreverently suggested. Then they continued their walk through the sunlit pastures; but Philip, whose ankle was by no means cured, began to limp.
“Stop. We must not go any further,” said Laura. “You have been walking too much to-day as it is. We will sit down and rest.”
“Let us get up on top of these rocks then,” he suggested, as their walk had brought them to a pile of broken rocks overgrown with rhododendrons and bilberry bushes. These they clambered up, and came to a shut-in, mossy nook. One side was riven by a deep fissure through which a torrent roared. It was the very spot which had witnessed that stormy interview between Fordham and Mrs Daventer. Strange, indeed, was the irony of fate which had led these two hither.
“I tell you what it is, Laura,” said Philip, throwing himself upon the ground; “it was awfully jolly of your mother to give me that invitation. We’ll have no end of a good time down there together—won’t we, dear?” and reaching out his hand he closed it upon hers. But this, after a momentary hesitation, she drew away.
“I hope we will,” she answered, and over the dark, piquante face there crept a most becoming flush. Very attractive too at that moment was that same face, with its luminous eyes and delicate, refined beauty. Still to the physiognomist there was a certain hardness about the ripe red lips which was not altogether satisfactory. But this fault he who now looked upon them failed to realise.
He turned round quickly and fixed his eyes upon her face. There was something in her tone, her gesture, that disquieted him.