Suddenly the singing grew louder; she heard the first outburst of the Cantate Domino.
“O sing unto the Lord a new song—for He hath done marvelous things.”
She sat up and looked round; a man was entering the cloisters from the Abbey, as he closed the door behind him the singing sank again to faintness.
Delia sat upright, motionless, looking toward the new-comer; it was Mr. Wedderburn.
The cloister echoed to his firm footstep as he came toward her; his riding-cloak was over his arm; he swung his hat and whip in his hand; seeing her he gave a little start, then came on and halted, his figure between her and the winter sunlight:
“Delia!” he said, and he half-smiled.
She could find no words to answer him; she turned her face away and stared down at her own still hand.
“You often come here?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He came nearer and leaned against the wall beside her easily, as if it were the most likely thing that they should have met thus.