“Can they ever be brighter—if you go?”
“You must not tempt me beyond my strength,” he answered, a dumb pain on his lips. “Ah, forgive me! I did not mean—”
“Tempt you! Have I done that?”
“It is my own heart tempts me—not you! It is that I cannot trust!”
“I can trust it,” she said under her breath. Her eyes were luminous and tender. “It is all I have to trust now.”
His strength was melting. He would have taken her into his arms, but the neigh of his tethered horse and a familiar answering whinny came across the yews.
“It is Fletcher,” he said in surprise. He crossed the garden to meet him.
“What is it, Fletcher?” he demanded. “Why have you left the rooms?”
“My lord!” stammered the valet, “did you not send for me?”
“No.”