Mr. Richard’s arms, instead of remaining passive under her touch, had, for a moment, closed round her—only for a moment—then, in response to her look of alarm, to her movement to free herself, he had let her go. But the moment had been long enough for each of the two young people to make a discovery. Mr. Richard had found out that he was possessed by a mad hope: Chris, that he was dominated by a sane one. She drew back from him modestly, and not without a touch of maidenly fear; but Mr. Richard saw clearly enough that her alarm was neither very deep nor very wounding to his self-esteem. Still, he did not speak, but stood before her with a contrite expression on his face; and at last when, Mr. Bradfield having disappeared into the house, Chris made a movement in that direction, he felt bold enough to hold out both his hands towards her with a gesture which seemed to entreat forgiveness, if he had offended her.
For answer, Chris, who was getting used to this courtship without words, put out her hand as she said, “Good-bye.”
Mr. Richard took it in his at first with just the measure of sedate courtesy which was conventionally correct; but the moment she tried to withdraw her fingers from his grasp, he seemed to realise suddenly that he was losing her, that the joy he felt in her presence might never be given him again. With rapid and passionate action, his left hand also had closed upon hers; and, before she realised what he was going to do, he had seized both her hands and pressed them to his lips.
Chris, much agitated, snatched away her hands, the more quickly, perhaps, that Stelfox at that moment became visible to her, standing motionless at a little distance, close to the evergreens which bordered the copse. He made a sign to Mr. Richard, who, raising his hat to Chris, followed his custodian in the direction of the house, which they entered by a side door.
Chris went slowly towards the principal entrance. She wanted to speak to Stelfox, and she wanted to avoid Mr. Bradfield, whose head, bending over the desk in his study, she could see en silhouette against the lamp-light. The blind had not been drawn down. Just before she reached the steps, Chris saw Mr. Bradfield rise from his chair; and by the time she reached his study door, on her way upstairs, he was standing there waiting for her. He scanned her face narrowly as she came up. Chris, having lost the flush of intense excitement brought into her cheeks by her interview with Mr. Richard, was again looking pale and over-tired.
“They’ve worked you to death over their tomfoolery at the barn,” he exclaimed, angrily, as she came up the stairs. “Why did you have anything to do with it?” Before she could answer he went on, in a more inquisitive tone, “But where have you been? All the others have been back an hour or more. I’ve been looking out for you.”
“I’ve been at the barn clearing up, putting things straight, and seeing that the lights were put out,” answered Chris, looking down rather guiltily.
“Didn’t they send someone to help you?” inquired Mr. Bradfield, sharply. “Harriet said she put out the lights.”
“So she did.”
“But that’s a quarter of an hour ago. What have you been doing with yourself since? You have not been staying at the barn in the dark—by yourself?”