His hand fell to his side, and his voice, which had been vibrating with passion, died away in a little, suppressed sob. Paul looked at him steadily. The perspiration was standing out upon his forehead in great beads, and his eyes were dry and brilliant. The man was shaken to the very core, and in the strange upheaval of passion he had altogether lost his sacerdotality. It was the man who had spoken, the man, passionate and sensuous, deeply moved through every chord of his being. The "priest" had fallen away from him, the remembrance of it seemed almost grotesque. Paul, too, had caught much of the passionate excitement of the moment.
"Time!" he said hoarsely. "I must have time. A few days only. I ask no questions! Only how long?"
"A week!" the priest answered. "A week to-night we meet here!"
CHAPTER XVIII
"SOFTLY GLIMMERING THROUGH THE LAURELS AT THE QUIET EVENFALL"
"Do you know who has taken Major Harcourt's cottage, Mr. de Vaux?" Lady May asked.
Paul was silent for a moment. He sat quite still in his saddle, and gazed across the moor, with his hand shading his eyes.
"I beg your pardon, Lady May," he said. "I thought that I heard the dogs. You asked me——"
"About Major Harcourt's cottage. Do you know who has taken it?"