Presently Philip said, “I am changed now; but you see, it was not memory or knowledge that changed me.”
“Do you like the change?” she asked.
“I don’t like to think how much time I have wasted without changing.”
“Perhaps, since it pleases you so well, you’ll want to change again?”
“I’m afraid you will never change!” he returned, with a cadence of half-humorous expostulation. “There’ll be no more change in me this side death.”
As he spoke he looked toward her; she was walking with eyes downcast, a doubtful smile coming and going about her lips. About a hundred yards beyond, in the line of his glance, a man and a woman on horseback passed rapidly across an opening between two groups of trees. Just before they swept out of sight the woman turned her face in Philip’s direction, and immediately made a gesture with her right hand. Whether it were a signal of recognition, or whether it had no reference to him, Philip could not decide. A painful sensation passed through his mind; but he was glad that the episode had escaped Marion’s notice. Soon after they rejoined Mrs. Lockhart and Mr. Grant; and Marion seemed to be relieved to be once more, as it were, under their protection. The importunity of an ungauged and unfamiliar joy may affect the heart like a danger.
For the rest of the day, accordingly, the four remained together, and, save for some slight intermittent anxiety on Philip’s part, they were all as happy as human beings are apt to be. Marion and Philip said very little to each other, and that of the most conventional description; but an inward smile, that seldom ventured beyond the eyes, illuminated both of them. Meanwhile, Mrs. Lockhart certainly, and Mr. Grant apparently, were most comfortably unconscious of anything exceptional having taken place. The serene geniality of the weather was perfectly reflected in the sentiments of those who enjoyed it. When the air of the hill had made them remember that something was to be done at the inn, they betook themselves thither, and were shown into a western room, whose open window gave upon the famous prospect. Here a table was set out and dinner served by a profoundly respectable and unexceptionable waiter, who had the air of having spent his previous life in perfecting himself for this occasion. They had a couple of bottles of very delicate Lafitte; and always, before raising his glass to his lips, Philip lifted his eyes, and quaffed an instant’s sweet intelligence from Marion’s.
“How do you find the wine, Lancaster?” Mr. Grant asked.
“I wish I might never drink any other,” was his reply.
“It is very good, but it goes to my head,” remarked Mrs. Lockhart.