"It is near."
She looks at him for a moment, her face fraught with great grief.
"Oh, how could you?" says she. "How could you have bought a place so close to it?"
She leans back into her corner, and it is his misery at this moment that he cannot know whether she is crying or not. Presently she starts forward again.
"Why, we are going down the road!" cries she. "We shall go past the gates!" She waits as if for an answer, but he makes her none. "Oh, you should have told me," says she faintly.
He puts out his hand and takes hers. She does not repulse him, and he holds it in a close clasp. Is there some magnetic influence at work that tells her all the truth—that betrays to her his secret? She turns suddenly and looks at him, but he refuses to meet her glance. He can feel that she is trembling violently. Her hand is still in his, and her eyes are fixed intently on the open window near her.
And now they are nearing Oakdean. She can see the pillars of the gates. A little cry escapes her. And now, now they are at the gate—soon they will be past——
But what is this? The coachman has drawn up! They stop! The groom springs down—someone from the lodge rushes quickly out. The gates are flung wide. The horses dash down the avenue!
* * * * *
Presently they draw up at the hall door—the door of Oakdean!