“That’s because I am so stupid. I have lost my head. I am not capable of a single coherent idea.”
“You are thinking of something else all the time.”
“My brain is in a whirl. Yes, I am thinking of something else.”
“Of what?”
“I’m afraid to say.”
Mrs. Thornton was silent. They entered the gate and walked up the avenue, slowly and in silence. Despard made one or two efforts to stop, and then continued. At last they reached the door. The lights were streaming brightly from window. Despard stood, silently.
“Will you not come in?”
“No, thank you,” said he, dreamily. “It is rather too late, and I must go. Good-night.”
He held out his hand. She offered hers, and he took it. He held it long, and half stooped as though he wished to say something. She felt the throbbing of his heart in his hand as it clasped hers. She said nothing. Nor did Despard seem able to say any thing. At last he let go her hand slowly and reluctantly.
“You will not forget the music?” said he.