She laughed in surprised fashion.
"What, the old man who sits and curses us! Is he a friend of yours?"
"He was on the steamer, coming home," David reminded her. "I told you so before. I take an interest in him."
His point now was momentarily gained, and he walked unhindered by her side. The soft twilight had fallen around them, little wreaths of mist were floating across the meadows, the birds were all silent. The pathway led through another narrow grove of trees. As they neared the gate, Letitia hesitated.
"I think it is just as near across the meadow," she said.
He held open the gate for her.
"You had better stay on the path," he advised. "The grass is wet and your shoes are thin."
She looked into his face, still hesitating. Then she swiftly dropped her eyes. The man must be mad! Nevertheless, she seemed for a moment to lose her will. The gate had fastened behind them with a sharp click. They were in the grove. The way was very narrow and the fir trees almost black. There was only a glimpse of deep blue sky to be seen ahead and in front. The pigeons rustled their wings, and a great owl lumbered across the way. Something happened to Letitia then which had never happened before. She felt both her hands gripped by a man's, felt herself powerless in his grasp.
"Lady Letitia," he exclaimed feverishly, "don't think I'm a fool! I'll not ask for what you haven't got to give—me. You shall have your father's note—you shall have—for him—what will make him free, if you'll only treat me like a human being—if you'll be—kind—a little kinder."
Her eyes flashed at him through the darkness, yet he could see that one thing at least he had achieved. Her bosom was rising and falling quickly, her voice shook as she answered him. For the first time he had penetrated that intolerable reserve.