"With Vernon."
"No, wi' Amor."
"How long ago?"
"Nigh three hours or more. The Bow and the Widow have galloped after 'em, but what I do say is, 'tis no work to set an old couple to catch a young couple: oh! your honour, if ever in this sweet Springtime you loved my dear one, will 'ee follow her now and bring her back to me?"
The news of Phyllida's elopement so crudely announced staggered him, notwithstanding his anticipation of such an event.
Hitherto his love for the maid had been a pleasant fancy, an impulse to day-dreams but nothing more material.
That very morning as he wandered in the water-meadows, he had been so full of the outside effect of his attitude there had been no room for the personal desire. He had tried to convince himself he was sincerely anxious for Phyllida's future happiness; but the true position he should have taken up was a determination to possess her for himself whatever the cost. She was young and fair, rose-flushed and adorable, and ’twas a pity to waste so much freshness on Vernon dulled by pleasure and—not quite well-bred.
Now a sense of personal loss stung him into action. Besides, he and Tony had vowed to transform life into a gay adventure. Here already was a quest worthy of their highest hopes.
"I will certainly go," said Charles.
"Ah! you have a true heart."