Where was he now? she wondered. He had meant what he said when he had told her that he was leaving her for ever. He believed that she scorned him now as she had scorned him years before, and he would not wait to be driven away, as he had been driven then. He had gone away, and she would never see him again. If he only knew!—oh, if he only knew!
The room was oppressive; she could scarcely breathe. She went to the casement window and opened it wide. The sweet pure air of the summer night was wafted to her, and there, lying beneath the moon's rays, was one of the loveliest sights in England. But she thought not of it; her heart was torn at the thought that she had bidden good-bye to the only man she had ever loved or could love.
Slowly she dragged her feet to her own bedroom, and tried to face the thought of the future. She had lived the past six years without him, and she must face the prospect of living her whole life without him. He did not know of her love, and he never would, except she told him, and that she could never do, for she knew he would never come to her again.
For a long time she sat alone, and faced what seemed to her inevitable darkness, then suddenly she started to her feet. It was her pride which caused her to drive him away six years before, and it was still pride that kept her from letting him know the truth now. She was allowing a poor and unworthy vanity to stand between her and happiness.
A few minutes later she was on her way to the Manor Farm. There had been a battle between love and pride, and love had won. She believed that not only her happiness, but his was at stake. She almost flew across the park, so eager was she to reach him. Pride was gone, the fear of what the world might think, if the world knew, was gone. She only knew that she loved, and that she would, if needs be, plead for forgiveness.
Crossing the bridge which spanned the river, she made her way up the footpath, until she reached the garden gate. A minute later she was on the lawn outside his window. For a moment her heart seemed to stop beating. What if he should drive her away, as she had driven him? Could she go to him, and offer him a love that might be repulsed? Standing there on the lawn, she could see him plainly. Evidently he was preparing to leave. In the middle of the room was a large box, in which he was placing his belongings. Like one fascinated she watched. Now and then he would stop in his work and stand still seemingly staring into vacancy, and then, as if spurred on by some secret thought, would eagerly continue his work.
The room in which she saw him was the Manor House parlour, a low ceiled apartment, with large casement windows opening out on the lawn. The light from the window fell upon the spot where she was standing, but he did not see her. She, however, could see his face plainly. She wondered how she had failed to recognise him, even although he had been disguised by his thick beard, for as she watched him she saw the Leicester she had known years before. But his face seemed terribly hard and stern, and she did not understand the look in his eyes. How dare she go to him, and tell him what was in her heart? Would he not scorn her, as she had scorned him? Thus minute after minute she waited, afraid to do what she had set out to do. So hard and unforgiving did his expression seem to her that she was almost on the point of turning away, when she saw him sit down like a man overcome, and pillow his face in his hands. Then she hesitated no longer. Approaching the window, she knocked gently, and instantly he lifted his head with a look of eager inquiry.
With trembling hands she opened the window and entered.
"Olive—Miss Castlemaine!" he said, like one dazed.
She went straight to him.