“It can’t be overthrown!” he said, holding arm and hand in the intense grasp.
“Not really, never; but there is no use in attempting anything till I am of age—next autumn, the 7th of November.”
“Say nothing till then!” exclaimed Frank, in some consternation.
“We are only where we were before! We are sure of each other now. It will be only vexation and harass,” said she, with the instinct of a persecuted creature.
“I couldn’t,” said Frank. “I could not keep it in with mother! It would not be right if I could, nor should I feel as if I were acting fairly by your father.”
“You are right, Frank. Forgive me! You don’t know what it is to have to be always saving one’s truth only by silence. Speak when you think right.”
“And I believe we shall find it far easier than you think. I’m not quite a beggar—except for you, my Lena. I should like to go home this minute, and tell mother and Charlie and Rose, that I’m—I’m treading on air; but I should only be fallen upon for thinking of anything but my task-work. So I’ll take a leaf out of your book, you cautious Lenore, and wait till I come down victorious, happy and glorious—and I shall now. I feel as if you had given me power to scale Olympus, now I know I may carry your heart with me. Do you remember this, Lena?” He guided her hand to the smooth pebble on his chain. She responded by putting her own into his.
“My talisman!” he said. “It has been my talisman of success many a time. I have laid my hand on it, and thought I was working for you. Mine! mine! mine! Waters cannot quench love—never fear.”
“Hush!” as the light of the opening hall door was seen, and Lady Tyrrell’s voice was heard, saying, “I thought we passed her; I am sure she was near.”
Eleonora withdrew her arm, patted Frank back, waved him into silence, and went forward, saying, “Here I am, Camilla; I walked home.”