By the same glimpse of silvery light warned as to the time, she knows she must needs hasten away; as her lover, that he can no longer detain her. The farewell kiss, so sweet yet painful, but makes their parting more difficult; and, not till after repeating it over and over, do they tear themselves asunder—he standing to look after, she moving off along the woodland path, as nymph or sylphide, with no suspicion that a satyr has preceded her and is waiting not far off, with foul fell intent—no less than the taking of her life.
End of Volume One.
Volume Two—Chapter One.
A Tardy Messenger.
Father Rogier has arrived at Abergann; slipped off his goloshes, left them with his hat in the entrance passage; and stepped inside the parlour.
There is a bright coal fire chirping in the grate; for, although not absolutely cold, the air is damp and raw from the rain which has fallen during the earlier hours of the day. He has not come direct from his house at the Ferry, but up the meadows from below, along paths that are muddy, with wet grass overhanging. Hence his having on india-rubber overshoes. Spare of flesh, and thin-blooded, he is sensitive to cold.
Feeling it now, he draws a chair to the fire, and sits down with his feet rested on the fender.
For a time he has it all to himself. The farmer is still outside, looking after his cattle, and setting things up for the night; while Mrs Morgan, after receiving him, has made excuse to the kitchen—to set the frying-pan on the coals. Already the sausages can be heard frizzling, while their savoury odour is borne everywhere throughout the house.