Why do I talk about myself? They two who loved each other were the ones to be pitied. To-morrow, when Cuthbert was away, there would be time enough to think.
My father sat by the fire, with his hands and chin resting on his stick, but his eyes followed me whenever I moved. I was not used to being watched like that, and presently I went to the door.
'I say, boy,' he called after me.
I looked round.
'Don't you go and vex yourself. He's going away, and girls soon forget, you know.'
'Girls will be girls, Willie,' said Granny, meaning to be comforting.
I went outside and leaned against the wall. The moon was covered with clouds, and in the hushed darkness you could hear if a leaf stirred or a grasshopper chirped in the long grass.
'Girls soon forget.' Ay, but I had just promised not to let Hildred forget. Besides, she wasn't likely to forget Cuthbert. And did I even wish her to forget him? I did not know. What was the use of thinking?
How long Cuthbert stayed! Granny's flitting light went out upstairs. She, and my father too, were most likely quietly asleep, before I heard his step coming quickly through the darkness.
'You waited for me,' he said, coming up. 'Clifford kept me talking. Come in, will you? I must get my things together. I told you how it would be. Clifford wanted her to take her promise back, because I was going away.'