She endeavoured to conceal the apprehensions that preyed on her. But Robert coaxed her to tell him the cause of her unhappiness. It chanced that they were standing together on the spot where they had plighted their mutual vows, and which naturally had become dear to both of them. Again the sun was setting gloriously, and the stream shone and flashed, and from the green hedgerows there were some sweet, small voices singing a farewell to the setting sun. But there was no longer the radiant face of Rosette. The sunset light only served to expose its unutterable sadness.
Grierson had his arm round her waist.
“Tell me, darling, tell me, my own little Rosy, what is the trouble on you?”
“Oh, Robbie, Robbie!” the tears came to her eyes, “what brought me here? What brought me and you together?”
“Why, darling, what do you mean? What brought you here except to make me the happiest man in Ulster, or out of it.”
“No, no, Robbie, love, you were happy till I came. You might be happy now and always, but I—I have changed the current of your life. It might have run on calmly as the stream below, flowing in an accustomed course, but now——”
“But no, darling, whatever be its course, it will run brighter than the stream runs on there so long as I have you with me, my own dear, darling little Rosette.”
And he drew her towards him and kissed her.
“But Robbie, don’t you understand, dear. I have had such dreams, and of you—oh, they have frightened my very soul!”
“You silly darling. Do you not know that dreams go by contraries!”