"Sense, sense, sense, I talk reason, sound reason--and you know I do."
"I know nothing of the sort."
"Then you ought to," exclaimed Tui, with heat. "Now you are going to be nasty, dear, so I shall leave you till you recover your temper;" and Miss Ostergaard, holding that discretion was the better part of valour, hastily retreated.
The wretched Olive did not know whether to laugh or cry. Deserted by Tui, who had gone over to the enemy, she was more than ever bewildered. Miss Slarge, too, was all against Carson--Olive had long seen that--although neither her opinion nor help was of any great value. Olive felt desperate. The wedding-day was only a few weeks distant, and almost immediately she would have to come to a definite decision. Should she accept or reject Carson? should she forego the money and ignore the letter? The more she put the question to herself the more bewildered she became.
When they first arrived, Major Semberry and his friend had been guests at the Manor House; but as Miss Slarge (who was nothing if not conventional) did not approve of a lengthy visit, they had removed to the village inn. However, they still spent a great deal of their time at the Manor House, and it so happened that whilst Olive and Tui were pursuing their discussion, they came in for luncheon. Olive heard their voices on the lawn, but, feeling that she could meet neither of them in her present state of mind, sent a message to her chaperon, and slipped out of the house. She walked through the woods and out on to the hills, turning over and over again in her mind her ever-present dilemma.
Now, as though to settle the matter offhand, Fate had inspired Mallow with a spirit of restlessness, and he, in his turn, feeling little inclined for Aldean's chatter or company, had strolled out alone. Thus it came about that on the breezy space of the downs the two young people met. Having met, they could scarcely pass without greeting, and they ended in sauntering side by side over the springy turf: Fate had trapped them, and Fate would have to answer for the consequences.
It was a perfect day: bland and sunny, and redolent of summer fragrance and peace. An early shower had fallen, and the raindrops sparkled on the grass, while the sheep straggled on the hillside, and the fitful breeze dispersed the sweetness of the land. A circling lark, lost in the blue, rained down its music, and the grey rabbits scuttled into their burrows at the approach of the lovers--for lovers they were, though their love was undeclared. Side by side they walked on--scarcely speaking, scarcely looking. They were alone on the lonely downs under the roof of God's sky, standing on the variegated pavement of God's temple, the strongest passion Nature knows gripping them at their heart-strings.
At first their conversation--such as it was--turned on trivial things. They skirted, as it were, the sole thought which filled the hearts of both. But their joint attempt to evade it was doomed to failure. Nature would have her own, and she seized it by force. Their idle talk dwindled into monosyllables; even these grew rare and low, and then a long silence ensued. Mallow felt his mouth dry and his heart beating furiously. He turned his eyes, eloquent with unspoken passion, on the woman by his side. With a thrill, half of joy, half of fear, she winced and shrank back.
"Don't!" she said faintly, holding up her hand, "I beg of----"
"I must," said Mallow, hoarsely, as her voice died on her lips.