She rode forward, flushing. What dared she say? Could she speak of her wedding, and betray Miltoun's presence? Could she open her mouth at all without rousing painful feeling of some sort? Then, impatient of indecision, she began:
“I'm so glad to see you again. I didn't know you were still down here.”
“I only came back to England yesterday, and I'm just here to see to the packing of my things.”
“Oh!” murmured Barbara. “You know what's happening to me, I suppose?”
Mrs. Noel smiled, looked up, and said: “I heard last night. All joy to you!”
A lump rose in Barbara's throat.
“I'm so glad to have seen you,” she murmured once more; “I expect I ought to be getting on,” and with the word “Good-bye,” gently echoed, she rode away.
But her mood of delight was gone; even the horse Hal seemed to tread unevenly, for all that he was going back to that stable which ever appeared to him desirable ten minutes after he had left it.
Except that her eyes seemed darker, Mrs. Noel had not changed. If she had shown the faintest sign of self-pity, the girl would never have felt, as she did now, so sorry and upset.
Leaving the stables, she saw that the wind was driving up a huge, white, shining cloud. “Isn't it going to be fine after all!” she thought.