"Oh! when you like, later on, only say you will be mine, that you will be mistress of Thornby Place one day, that is all I want."
"Then you don't want to pull the house down any more."
"No, no; a thousand times no! Say you will be my wife one of these days."
"Very well then, one of these days...." "And I may tell my mother of your promise to-night?... It will make her so happy."
"Of course you may tell her, John, but I don't think she will believe it."
"Why should she not believe it?"
"I don't know," said Kitty, laughing, "but how funny, was it not, that the gipsy girl should guess right?"
"Yes, it was indeed. I wanted to tell you before, but I hadn't the courage; and I might never have found the courage if it had not been for that gipsy."
In his abundant happiness John did not notice that Kitty was scarcely sensible of the importance of the promise she had given. And in silence he gazed on the landscape, letting it sink into and fix itself for ever in his mind. Below them lay the great green plain, wonderfully level, and so distinct were its hedges that it looked like a chessboard. Thornby Place was hidden in vapour, and further away all was lost in darkness that was almost night.
"I am sorry we cannot see the house—your house," said John as they descended the chalk road.