Rachel smiled sadly on the snow-drops at her feet, and shook her head a little.
'No, I must stay at home this evening—I mean I have not spirits to go to Brandon. Thank Dorcas very much from me—that is, if you really mean that she asked me.'
'I am so sorry—I am so disappointed,' said Lord Chelford, looking gravely and enquiringly at her. He began, I think, to fancy some estrangement there. 'But perhaps to-morrow—perhaps even to-day—you may relent, you know. Don't say it is impossible.'
Rachel smiled on the ground, as before; and then, with a little sigh and a shake of her head, said—
'No.'
'Well, I must tell Dorcas she was right—you are very inexorable and cruel.'
'I am very cruel to keep you here so long—and I, too, am forgetting the vicar, who will be here immediately, and I must meet him in a costume less like the Woman of Endor.'
Lord Chelford, leaning on the little wicket, put his arm over, and she gave him her hand again.
'Good-bye,' said Rachel.
'Well, I suppose I, too, must say good-bye; and I'll say a great deal more,' said he, in a peculiar, odd tone, that was very firm, and yet indescribably tender. And he held her slender hand, from which she had drawn the gauntlet, in his. 'Yes, Rachel, I will—I'll say everything. We are old friends now—you'll forgive me calling you Rachel—it may be perhaps the last time.'