They became very sorrowful as they realized that the last moments of their golden days were running out, and they held each other close in a long shy embrace, and they kissed each other fearfully, and Cathleen could not keep back her tears.
“You will write to me?”
“Oh, yes, yes.”
“Good-by, my dear, good-by.”
So reluctantly, with dragging steps, they walked out of their glade and into the path leading to the great house. At the last turn they embraced again, and parted quickly on a sudden crackling in the woods. They saw nothing, but they walked on more swiftly, in a silence more full of fear than of love.
At the garden gate they were met by Mr. Bentley, Cathleen’s father. To René he loomed very large, and he felt a sickening internal disturbance as he saw that his presence was ignored.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” said Mr. Bentley.
“I’ve been a walk.”
“Your mother wants you.”
“At once?”