'After all,' I reflected that night when I went to bed, 'perhaps it is best that he should speak to her. She will regard his declaration as madness, and will tell him so. He never saw her until three hours ago, and if, as I suspect, Springfield has fascinated her, she will make him see what a fool he has been. Then he will give up his madness.'
That was why I left them together the next day. All the same, there was a curious pain in my heart as I saw them walk away side by side, for I knew by the light in his eyes that he meant to carry out his determination.
CHAPTER XXIV
A STRANGE LOVE-MAKING
Few men tell each other about their love-making, especially Englishmen. Mostly we regard such things as too sacred to speak about, even to those we trust and love the most. Besides, there is something in the character of the normal Englishman which is reserved and secretive, and the thought of telling about our love-making is utterly repugnant to us. Nevertheless, Edgecumbe told me the story of their conversation that afternoon almost word for word as it took place.
He spoke of it quite naturally, too, as though it were the right thing to do. He looked upon me as his one friend, and perhaps the abnormal condition of his life made him do what under other circumstances he would never have thought of. Anyhow, he told me, while I listened incredulous, but almost spellbound.
They had been but a few minutes together, when he commenced his confession. They had left the lane in which they had been walking and were crossing a field which led to a piece of woodland, now beginning to be tinged by those autumn tints which are so beautiful in our western counties.
It was one of those autumn days, which are often more glorious than even those of midsummer. The sweetness and freshness of summer had gone, and the browning leaves and shortening days warned us that winter was coming on apace. But as they walked, the sun shone in a cloudless sky. The morning had been gloomy and showery, but now, as if by a magician's wand, the clouds had been swept away, and nothing but the great dome of blue, illumined by the brightness of the sun, was over them. The rain, too, had cleared the air, and the raindrops which here and there still hung on the grass sparkled in the sunlight.
'It seems,' said Edgecumbe, 'as though the glory of yonder woods is simply defying the coming of winter. Do you see the colouring, the almost unearthly beauty, of the leaves? That is because the sun is shining on them.'
'Yes;' replied Lorna, 'but the winter is coming.'