"God forgive me!" she murmured. "How dare I find fault with her, blessed child that she is!"
CHAPTER XXI.
I AM YOURS.
"I knew thee strong and quiet—like the hills;
I knew thee apt to pity, brave to endure."
—R. L. S.
Paul Wyndham's hopes were on the ascendant at last. After a full year of waiting, he saw himself drawing steadily nearer to his hour of reward.
He studied Honor Meredith as a man only studies that on which his life's happiness depends; and during the past few weeks he had become aware of a mysterious change in the girl's bearing. Her beauty—which had seemed to him so complete—was now unmistakably enhanced by some transformation within. Her whole nature seemed to have become more highly sensitised. Her colour came and went upon the least provocation; her frank friendliness was veiled by a shy reserve, that had in it no hint of coldness; and, more significant than all, her eyes no longer met his own with that disconcerting directness of gaze which had sealed his lips when they were upon the verge of speech.
For all his modesty, Wyndham could not fail to interpret these signs according to his heart's desire; and when, on the night of Evelyn's accident, Honor promised him an early ride, prefaced by chota hazri [26] in the verandah, he told himself that he need wait no longer—that the great moment of his life had come at last.