Even as Gerald's blood leapt with the throb of triumph, he realised how careful he must be not to let her see the admission she had just made. The thing which he might safely say sprang into his mind as by inspiration. "There is such a thing as spiritual freedom, Virgie," he softly murmured. "Don't forget that liberty is a thing nobody can really take from you."
She turned a radiant face to him, and broke into a smile. "Oh, Gerald, how lovely! How fine of you to say that! Yes, it is so. You are right. I shall remember that always, and that it was you who said it."
"Because I am your friend," he continued steadily, knowing himself upon the right road. "Remember always that I am your friend, and that I have a right to your spiritual freedom. If ever you should be in trouble or difficulty, you will think of our friendship, won't you? Think of this perfect day, and how we have been together in pure friendship and mutual confidence. You trust me, don't you, Virgie?"
"I should think so." She gave her hand, impulsively, and as he held it—soft, warm, and ungloved—he wondered how much more of this he could stand. She hesitated, as if she wanted to say something, and dared not. At last: "You don't want words, do you, Gerald? You understand?" she faltered.
"Yes." The word was gulped. He lifted her hand, kissed it, laid it upon her knee, and rose hurriedly. Baines had been gone nearly two hours.
"Something has delayed the car," he remarked, coming back to her, watch in hand. "I wonder what we had better do? It is getting late—you will want some dinner."
"Oh, no, I have had a very good tea," she answered calmly, "but we shall be cold if we sit here much longer."
He went into the lane and looked up and down. Then he returned again. "I wonder if the kind old lady would let you sit in her parlour while I go and reconnoitre?" he suggested. "We might go off together somewhere and get some dinner, while I station a sentry here to warn Baines where to find us? I am afraid we are a good way from anything in the way of food, but I may as well inquire."
This was agreed upon, and Virgie settled herself in a tiny parlour, full of furniture, while Gerald disappeared. She kept her ears strained for the humming of the car, but no such sound broke the pastoral silence of the remote spot. She began to wonder what they really would do should the car have broken down, for she knew that her own powers of walking were very limited, in spite of her immensely improved health.
Half an hour passed slowly, and then Gerald returned.