I was a fool to try. I might have known that, after all I had passed through that day, it was beyond my strength. I got as far as the first three words, and then I burst into tears. His whole face lit up with joy at my failure.
"I am satisfied!" he said, drawing my hand through his arm. "Come! we will go back to the house. I must not have you catch cold!"
He spoke with an air of fond proprietorship which made my heart tremble, but I had no more words left with which to fight my battle. My strength was gone; I did not even try to withdraw my hand.
We walked away, and I did my best to choke the hysterical sobs which threatened me. Directly we left the shelter of the pine grove, speech became impossible. We had to fight our way along, step by step, with the wind and rain beating in our faces. I was thankful for it, for the physical effort seemed to stimulate and calm me.
When at last we reached the house and stood inside the hall, he turned to me and spoke for the first time.
"That walk was quite an event, wasn't it? Let me feel how wet you are."
He ran his fingers down my arm and back, and then rang the hall bell violently.
"You are wet through," he said gravely. "And it is my fault. Instead of bringing you home at once, as I ought to have done, I kept you out there talking. Run upstairs at once, Margharita, please, and change all your things. I will send up hot water."
He had been hurrying me to the stairs all the time, and I began slowly to ascend them. He stood down in the white stone hall, watching me anxiously.
"You won't be long, will you?" he said, as I reached the corner. "I want to talk to you before dinner."