He was silent, mentally pulling himself together. Then he put his arm gently through hers.
"Let us go home," he said. "I can walk now. Are we far from the coombe?"
"Not ten minutes off," she answered, glad to see him more cheerful and alert. "By the short cut it's just over the brow of the hill. Will you come that way?"
"Any way you like to take me," and leaning on her arm he walked bravely on. "Where is Angus?"
"I left him sitting under a tree at the top of the coombe near the Church," she replied. "He was busy with his writing, and I told him I would just run across the hill and see if you were coming. I had a sort of fancy you would be tramping home this morning! And where have you been all these days?"
"A good way," he answered evasively. "I'm rather a slow walker."
"I should think you were!" and she laughed good-humouredly. "You must have been pretty near us all the while!"
He made no answer, and together they paced slowly across the grass, sweet with the mixed perfume of thousands of tiny close-growing herbs and flowers which clung in unseen clumps to the soil. All at once the quaint little tower of Weircombe Church thrust its ivy-covered summit above the edge of the green slope which they were ascending, and another few steps showed the glittering reaches of the sunlit sea. Helmsley paused, and drew a deep breath.
"I am thankful to see it all again!" he said.
She waited, while leaning heavily on her arm he scanned the whole fair landscape with a look of eager love and longing. She saw that he was very tired and exhausted, and wondered what he had been doing with himself in his days of absence from her care, but she had too much delicacy and feeling for him to ask him any questions. And she was glad when a cheery "Hillo!" echoed over the hill and Angus appeared, striding across the grass and waving his cap in quite a jubilant fashion. As soon as he saw them plainly he exchanged his stride for a run and came up to them in a couple of minutes.