Now Barnabas stood leaning upon his stick, a tall, impassive figure; his voice was low, yet it thrilled in her ears, and there was that in his steadfast eyes before which her own wavered and fell; yet, even so, from the shadow of her hood, she must needs question him further.
"Worship me? When?"
"When you are—my—wife."
Again she was silent, while one slender hand plucked nervously at the grass.
"Are you so sure of me?" she inquired at last.
"No; only of myself."
"Ah! you mean to—force a promise from me—here?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it is night, and you are solitary; I would not have you fear me again. But I shall come to you, one day, a day when the sun is in the sky, and friends are within call. I shall come and ask you then."