So when the darkness had fallen completely, she rose and went up to her own room and changed from the light dinner dress she had been wearing into a plain dark frock.
"Will he be glad and proud, or will he be sorry?" she asked herself. Glad and proud—please God he would be glad and proud! And if it brought gladness and pride to him, what then? might it not bring love also, the love she hungered for, the love her heart craved?
The moon was late rising to-night. There was no light save the dim faint light of the stars. Somewhere among the tall trees an owl was making its plaintive cry. Kathleen shivered a little at the sound, it seemed almost like an ill omen. She knew where he would be waiting and then presently in the deep dark shadows under the high old yew hedge she found him.
He heard the light footfall, he heard the rustle of her dress and made no doubt that it was Betty, for who else would come to him here in this place?
"Betty!" he said.
She did not answer him, she stood still, then hesitatingly came forward towards him. But he offered her no greeting, he did not hold out his hands to her. He seemed even to turn away from her.
"Listen," he said, and did not even look towards her. "I have given you time to think, to realise that what I hope to arrange for you is all—all for your good. What I said to you that night was true—Betty we do not and we should not know what the past held for us, that we do know, something of it has only brought us unhappiness and heartache. But the past is past, Betty, it belonged to another life, another generation and we who stand here to-night have to deal only with the present and even more with the future."
Kathleen stood listening, her hands pressed against her breast. Was she wrong to listen to him, knowing that his words were meant for other ears? If he but turned to her now he might see, dim though the light, that it was not the little country girl that he was talking to.
Yet he did not look at her once, but rather at the ground, or away into the blue black distance.
"You have told me that you loved me, you have asked me for my love, forgetting or not knowing, dear, that I could not give you that love with honour. Could I feel such love for you it would but dishonour you, dishonour myself—and—and her, Betty, her." His voice shook for a moment.