"She wants me to go over to her."
"But you'll come out here again?"
"I might—I might come out on the cliffs over there." She pointed towards Crickabella. "I don't know. I don't think I shall. But don't try and see me at home, because I wouldn't know you there."
She ran from him suddenly across the sands back to May.
"Why did you wave like that?" she asked.
"I think there's been somebody watching you," said May, looking pale and anxious.
Chapter XLVII: Nightlight Time
TREWHELLA gave no sign that he knew anything of the event on the sands; yet Jenny's instinct was to avoid a meeting with Maurice. Once or twice, indeed, she was on the point of starting out; but she never brought herself to the actual effort, and the May days went by without her leaving the precincts of Bochyn. Maurice had made but a small impression upon her emotion; had raised not a single heartbeat after the first shock of his approach over the long sands. She had no curiosity to discover why he had come down here, with what end in view, with what impulse. She cared not to know what his life had been in those four years, what seas or shores he had adventured, what women he had known. Yet somehow she felt, through a kind of belated sympathy, that every morning he was out on the cliffs by Crickabella watching for a sight of her coming up the hill. Should she go? Should she finally dismiss him, speaking coldly, contemptuously, lashing him with her scorn and wounded pride and dead love? June was in view, and still she paused. June came in, royally azure. Yet she hesitated; while young Frank waved to the butterflies and grew daily in the sun like a peach.
"He do look so happy as the King of Spain," said old Mr. Champion. "Grand lill chap, he is sure enough. Do 'ee hear what I'm speaking, my young handsome?"
Granfa bent down and tickled the boy.