Throughout the whole day he tramped the moors. Taking with him a pasty which Mrs. Briggs had baked, he stayed the entire day alone, and did not return until the sun was beginning to set behind the western hills. At precisely the same time as he had visited Vale Linden Hall the night before, he again approached the house. He was on the point of ringing when he saw Olive sitting beneath the broad-spreading branches of a great tree.
Eagerly he walked towards her.
"Signorina," he said eagerly, "I come to know my fate. On your answer depend the issues of my life. Am I to be lifted into paradise, or am I to be cast away into outer darkness?"
Olive was silent for a moment, then she said:
"Before I can answer you, signore, I have a confession to make."
"A confession!" he said. "Oh, but I shall be a very lenient confessor, if at the end—but you know what I would say. It would weary you to repeat what I said last night, neither is there need that I should. Surely you know what is in my heart. Since I saw you last night, no sleep has visited me. Half the night I tramped the moors, the other half I tossed sleeplessly on my bed. How could I sleep when I do not know what my future will be? Never mind the confession, signorina—tell me to be happy."
"I do not think I can," she replied.
"But you must, you must," he cried imperiously. "I tell you I will sweep away your objections like the wind sweeps away thistledown. You do not know what your refusal would mean to me."
"There is something I must tell you," she said quietly. "Last night you asked me to be your wife; at least let me tell you why—why I do not think I can."
A strange smile passed over Ricordo's face.