"Pooh! No man is modest; they are all as conceited as pigs."
"I never knew that pigs were considered vain, Mrs. Perage," said Gwen coldly. "And I don't see why you should compare Mr. Hench to one."
"I spoke generally. Don't be silly."
"Ah, you call me silly because I'm in love."
"Are you really and truly in love?" asked the old lady doubtfully. "Mind you, I don't mean that easy romantic passion which seems everything and means nothing. But real love, true love, staunch love, the sort which will hold to its object in the face of all detraction."
"I wouldn't believe a word against Mr. Hench, if that is what you mean. But I don't know why you should use the word detraction."
"I don't know myself," said Mrs. Perage grimly. "Unless it is that I find most men are broken cisterns. There, there, child, go away and meet your Prince. I don't wish to be your Jeremiah and prophesy woe."
"I wouldn't believe you if you did," said the girl very decidedly. "All my woe was undergone with the death of my father and the loss of my old home. I am sure that there is nothing but sunshine ahead."
Mrs. Perage sniffed and thought anxiously about Vane's hints. But it was not her business to give chapter and verse for her forebodings. And, at all events, she had somewhat strengthened Gwen's love for the young man by depreciating him in a hinting kind of way. When the girl, flushed with love, and looking as pretty as a picture, set forth to keep the appointment, Mrs. Perage stood at the window and breathed a prayer that all would be well. It was a bright warm day, but clouds were drifting across the sky. Even as the old dame prayed a cloud concealed the brightness of the sun and Mrs. Perage shuddered. It was an omen of ill, she thought; but when a few moments later the cloud passed and the glow of the sunshine reasserted itself, she cheered up. It seemed to her that trouble was coming, but would pass without being of any great duration. She fervently hoped so, and went about her daily business calling herself hard names for being so superstitious.
Meantime, Gwen, with a smiling face and a light heart, was walking swiftly towards the place of meeting. Every moment spent away from Hench, now that he had declared himself, seemed to be wasted, and she promised herself three or four golden hours with her lover. They would talk in the churchyard for a time, and then would take a long walk, in any direction, for whatever path they chose would lead to the Elysian Fields. Then he would tell her how much he loved her, and she would respond coyly to his caresses, until earth and sea and sky would be transfigured, and they would be blessed above all lovers who ever were or who ever would be. Afterwards would come marriage, and they would enter into the kingdom of heaven to remain there for ever and ever. Gwen rather blushed at the extravagance of her thoughts when she entered the churchyard, and blushed still more when she came suddenly upon the ancient Saxon Cross, against which the man of men was leaning. She thought for a single nervous moment that he looked rather pinched and worried, but had no cause to complain of the warmth of his greeting. Once she was in his arms with only the jackdaws for spectators, it seemed as though he would never let her go. All the poetry of Romeo and Juliet was in his embrace. And those lovers met in a vault at the last which was even more weird than meeting in a churchyard.