He smiled. "Why, then, the clumsy thing will work for once! I'll try to be a good captain.—The clock is striking. I do not know when nor how I shall see Greenwood again. Judith, you'll wish me well?"
"Will I wish you well, Richard? Yes, I will wish you well. Do not go at dawn."
He looked at her. "Do you ask me to wait?"
"Yes, I ask you. Wait till—till later in the morning. It is so sad to say good-bye."
"I will wait then." The light from the hall lay unbroken on the doorstep. Molly and Unity had disappeared. A little in yellow lamplight, chiefly in silver moonlight the porch lay deserted and quiet before the murmuring oaks, above the fair downward sweep of grass and flowers. "It is long," said Cleave, "since I have been here. The day after the tournament—"
"Yes."
He came nearer. "Judith, was it so hard to forgive—that tournament? You had both crowns, after all."
"I do not know," said Judith, "what you mean."
"Do you remember—do you remember last Christmas when, going to Lauderdale, I passed you on your way to Silver Hill?"
"Yes, I remember."