Already the clouds were freeing themselves from winter heaviness, and in their manifold combinations there was that suggestion of still distance which is characteristic of our English summer days, and has its equal in no other land, over no other sea.
The yellow sun was high in the heavens, with nothing more formidable to obstruct its rays than a slight shimmering haze. The air was light and balmy—indeed, in earth and air and sea there was a subtle buoyancy which tells of coming spring, and creates in men's hearts a braver contemplation of life.
It was, I think, a dangerous hour to send two young people away across the lonesome marshland alone together. Nevertheless, Mrs. Wylie watched them depart without a pang of remorse or a sting of conscience. Indeed, she calculated the risk with equanimity.
'I think,' she reflected, 'that this walk to the old lighthouse will be one of those trifling incidents which seem to remain engraved in our hearts long after the memory of greater events has passed away. They are both self-contained and resolute, but no human being is quite beyond the influence of outward things.'
For some time the two young people spoke in a scrappy way, of indifferent topics. The narrow path only allowed one to pass at a time, and the moor was so broken that progression at the side of the path was almost impossible. After, however, the Mizzen Heath Coastguard Station had been left behind, and the precipitous slope descended, the sea-wall afforded better walking, and the conversation assumed a more personal vein.
'Tell me,' said Brenda pleasantly, 'your plans in case of war! We know absolutely nothing of your proposed movements.'
'I know nothing myself, except in a very general way. Of course, we shall be guided by circumstances.'
'We...?'
'Yes; I take two men with me. The campaign will be on too large a scale for one man to watch unaided. These two fellows act as my lieutenants. I have chosen them myself. One is a future baronet with a taste for sport and literature, which is a rare combination. The other is a soldier, twenty-five years older than myself. We shall be a funny trio; but I think it will be a success, for we mean to make it one. The two men are full of energy and as hard as nails. Our plans are almost as voluminous and as comprehensive as Moltke's. It will be a great war, and we intend our history of it to be the only one worth reading. The old soldier is a Frenchman, so we shall tell our story in two languages simultaneously.'
'And where will it be—where will the battles be fought?'