'Likely enough, Tony; but, as "Cœlebs in search of a wife," I need not go there any more,' half grumbled Jerry, as he whipped up his high-stepper and bowled away through the long street of huts to his quarters; while to Dalton's graver mind there seemed to be something intensely comical in the equanimity with which he took his repulse.
CHAPTER VIII.
'FOR EVER AND FOR EVER.'
Of a very different nature in its depth and passion was a love-scene which was taking place not very far distant from the Grange at about the same time.
Alison Cheyne, we have said, had ceased to take her walk beside the beeches, though her heart yearned for it, and she knew well who was too probably loitering and watching there; so Bevil Goring, at all risks, wrote her a passionate and imploring letter to meet him once again at the same place and hour, with an alternation of days in case of engagements or interruption; and this missive came to her when Alison, who loved him with all her woman's heart, was wondering hourly how she could get through day after day without him.
'At last! at last!' was the exclamation of each as the tryst was kept, and they met again.
Their hearts were beating fast, and in unison, but in silence, and, if the meeting was a secret and a stealthy one, it was all the more thrilling to both. They were silent for a time, we say, but the silence was not without its eloquence, if the paradox may be used. There was the mystic communion of souls—the touch of hand that closed on hand, of lip that clung to lip—lips that knew not how to utter all that hovered there unsaid.
'You got my letter, darling?' said Bevil, after a time.
'I could not have been here else; but, for heaven's sake, do not write to me again,' said Alison, imploringly.
'Why?'