She remembered those words in after years, and repented of them when repentance was in vain.
"Surely you might smile now," said Claude. "I hope you do not find sitting by my side on this lovely evening monotonous."
She laughed, but the laugh had no music in it.
"No, I cannot say that I do; but you are going away soon, you tell me, and then the only gleam of sunshine in my life will fade, and all will be darkness again."
"What has depressed you so much?" he asked. "You are not yourself to-day."
"Shall I tell you what my day has been like?" she said. "Shall I describe it from the hour when the first sunbeams woke me this morning until now?" He took both the small white hands in his.
"Yes, tell me; but be merciful, and let me hear that the thought of meeting me has cheered you."
"It has been the only gleam of brightness," she said, so frankly that the very frankness of the words seemed not to displease him. "It was just six when I woke. I could hear the birds singing, and I knew how cool and fresh and dewy everything was. I dressed myself very quickly and went down-stairs. The great house was all darkness and silence. I had forgotten that Lady Vaughan does not allow the front or back doors to be opened until after breakfast. I thought the birds were calling me, and the branches of the trees seemed to beckon me; but I was obliged to go back to my own room, and sit there till the gong sounded for breakfast."
"Poor child!" he said caressingly.