'I forgot—yes—I believe I am a little tired; I'm afraid I have led you, too, farther than you intended.' She fancied that her sudden change of plan on meeting her brother would appear odd.
'I'll see you a little bit on your way home, Radie,' said Stanley.
It was just what she wished to escape. She was more nervous, though not less courageous than formerly. But the old, fierce, defiant spirit awoke. Why should she fear Stanley, or what could it be to her whether he was beside her in her homeward walk?
So the vicar made his adieux there, and began, at a brisker pace, to retrace his steps toward Gylingden; and she and Stanley, side by side, walked on toward Redman's Dell.
'What a charming park! and what delightful air, Radie; and the weather so very delicious. They talk of Italian evenings; but there is a pleasant sharpness in English evenings quite peculiar. Is not there just a little suspicion of frost—don't you think so—not actually cold, but crisp and sharp—unspeakably exhilarating; now really, this evening is quite celestial.'
'I've just been listening to a good man's conversation, and I wish to reflect upon it,' said Rachel, very coldly.
'Quite so; that is, of course, when you are alone,' answered Stanley, serenely. 'William was always a very clever fellow to talk—very well read in theology—is not he?—yes, he does talk very sweetly and nobly on religion; it is a pity he is not quite straight, or at least more punctual, in his money affairs.'
'He is distressed for money? William Wylder is distressed for money! Do you mean that?' said Rachel, turning a tone of sudden surprise and energy, almost horror, turning full upon him, and stopping short.
'Oh, dear! no—not the least distressed that I ever heard of,' laughed
Stanley coldly—'only just a little bit roguish, maybe.'
'That's so like you, Stanley,' said the young lady, with a quiet scorn, resuming her onward walk.