Again he found her at twilight praying in the chapel, but this time she was calm and her eyes clear. She gave him her hand, and was plainly pleased to see him.
“You cannot imagine, Vera,” he said, “how happy it makes me to see you calmer. What has given you peace?”
She glanced towards the chapel.
“You don’t go down there any more?” he said, pointing to the precipice.
She shook her head.
“Thank God!” he cried. “If you are going home now, take my arm,” he said, and they walked together along the path leading across the meadow. “You have been fighting a hard and despairing battle, Vera. So much you do not conceal. Are you going to conquer this agonising and dangerous passion?”
“And if I do, Cousin?” she asked despondently.
“The richer for a great experience, strengthened against future storms, your portion will be a great happiness, sufficient to fill your whole life.”
“I cannot comprehend any other happiness,” she said, thoughtfully. She stood still, leaning her head on his shoulder, and her eyes filled with tears. He did not know that he had probed her wound by touching on the very point that had caused her separation from Mark.
At that moment there was the report of a shot in the depths below the precipice, and the sound was re-echoed from the hills. Raisky and Vera both started. She stood listening for a moment. Her eyes, still wet with tears, were wide and staring now. Then she loosed her hold of his arm, and hurried in the direction of the precipice, with Raisky hurrying at her heels. When she had gone half way, she stopped, laid her hand on her heart, and listened once more.