“Your nose too!”
“Yes, my nose too. The paint comes off my face; and this comes off.” She stuck out the thick-soled shoe as she spoke. “And this comes off,” she added, laying her hand on her shoulder and laughing. “And my figure is just what it always was. Only my teeth and hair are real.”
At first Lionel stared at her with some alarm, as if he thought she might be going out of her mind. But she only smiled and looked at him quite quietly; and, now that he knew the truth, he saw the familiar face that was dear to him as if it were not disfigured, and the sudden understanding wrought such a quick revulsion in his feeling and so greatly delighted his natural sense of humour, that he began to laugh silently, as he sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, for he had the grave disposition of a thoughtful scholar. But instead of subsiding, his mirth grew by quick degrees, his shoulders shook, and his face twisted till he felt as if his whole being were turning into one vast joke; then, quite suddenly, he stuck out his feet in front of him, leaned back, threw up his head, and broke into a peal of such ringing laughter as the silent moor had never heard before. And Ellen Scott, who had been dying to laugh for ten days, could not help joining him now, though in a much more musical and pretty fashion; so there the lovers sat on the boulder, side by side, laughing like a pair of lunatics.
The air was bright and still, as it can be in the North of England when the winter is just over and the earth is beginning to wake again, and to dream of her returning loveliness, as a beautiful woman may who has long lain ill in a darkened room. The clear laughter of the two echoed far and wide, even down to the stream in the hollow, where the girls were poking sticks under the big stones at one end of the pool to drive the speckled trout out of their quiet lurking-places; and they were talking in low tones and plotting to hide some fishing-tackle
“Such ringing laughter as the silent moor had never heard before.”
out of sight near by, on the mere chance that they might before long get an hour’s fishing while Lionel would be talking to Miss Scott. But the instant they heard the far-off sound of mirth overhead, they ran up the slope again, and dropped to the ground just behind a long familiar bunch of gorse, whence they could watch the road unobserved. The manœuvre was executed with a skill that would have done credit to a head stalker.
Lionel and Miss Scott were still laughing, but had reached the milder stage of mirth which is like the after-taste of very dry champagne. They were looking at each other, and it was quite evident to the experienced eyes that watched them through the gorse that they were holding hands, though the hands that were joined were not visible, but were held low down between them, pressing the boulder on which they sat.