“Why this wild rush?” he inquired.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “It is just a feeling, perhaps. I want to get away, a long way off, very soon. I can’t explain. Don’t ask me to explain, any of you. You are sure those are all the letters?”
“Certain,” Rochester answered. “And, Lois,” he added, looking up, “remember this. You speak and look this morning like one who has fears. I repeat it, you have absolutely nothing to fear. I am your guardian still, although you are of age, and I promise you that nothing harmful, nothing threatening, shall come near you.”
She drew a little sigh. She did not make him any answer at all, and yet in a sense it was clear that his words had brought her some comfort.
“Don’t expect us back till dinner-time,” she declared. “I am going to sit behind with Maurice and be bored to death, but I am going to be out of doors till it is dark. I wish you did not bore me so, Maurice,” she added, smiling up at him.
“I won’t to-day, anyhow,” he answered, “because if I talk at all I am going to talk about yourself.”
As the day wore on, Lois seemed to lose the depression which had come over her during the early morning. By luncheon she was laughing and chattering, talking over her presents. Soon, when they were speeding on the road again, she felt her hand suddenly held.
“Lois,” her companion said, “this is your birthday, and you are a free woman, free to give yourself to whom you will. It should be the happiest day of your life. Won’t you make it the happiest day of mine?”
“Oh, if only I could!” she answered, with a sudden return of her old nervousness. “Maurice, if only I dared!”
He laughed scornfully.