Darkness hid her eyes. Hand in hand they went down the hillside, while the Mount of Victory still blazed behind them.
Philip and Lucy were waiting for them. And then, at last, Helena remembered her telegram of the afternoon, and read it to a group of laughing hearers.
"Right you are. I proposed last night to Jennie Dumbarton. Wedding,
October—Await reply. PETER."
"He shall have his reply," said Helena. And she wrote it with Geoffrey looking on.
Not quite twenty-four hours later, Buntingford was walking up through the late twilight to Beechmark. After the glad excitement kindled in him by Helena's and Geoffrey's happiness, his spirits had dropped steadily all the way home. There before him across the park, rose his large barrack of a house, so empty, but for that frail life which seemed now part of his own.
He walked on, his eyes fixed on the lights in the rooms where his boy was. When he reached the gate into the gardens, a figure came suddenly out of the shrubbery towards him.
"Cynthia!"
"Philip! We didn't expect you till to-morrow."
He turned back with her, inexpressibly comforted by her companionship.
The first item in his news was of course the news of Helena's engagement.
Cynthia's surprise was great, as she showed; so also was her relief,
which she did not show.
"And the wedding is to be soon?"