Alwyn looked at the white fragile face, and could not find voice for a moment to answer.
“You mustn’t stay too long and spoil me,” said Edgar, “unless you come back again very quickly.”
Alwyn came nearer and sat down by his side.
“My boy,” he said, “you know I did not come home only to clear my way for my great hopes. I did come to seek for pardon and to try to undo a little of the past. There’s a long time to make up for; there is no hurry. You need not think about parting yet; that is, if my father—”
Alwyn broke off, and Edgar lay still, twisting his long weak fingers round the hand he was holding.
“I think you might promise to stay—as long as I want you,” he said. “I shall let you go—soon.”
“I promise,” said Alwyn gently, and again Edgar was silent, till he said in a different tone:
“Well, that’s all as it may be. One must take what comes.”
“What is sent,” said Alwyn.
“Val,” said Edgar after another silence, “it was very curious. Just before you came back I dreamed about you. I saw you. I knew you directly. But I saw that you were changed; your face was like it is now—not as it used to be. You are different.”