2
The time that Richard could afford to take from his work had come to an end, it was his last day at Lynton. "Let's walk to Watersmeet this afternoon, Joan," he suggested. "It's such a perfect day."
"I oughtn't to leave Mother," she said doubtfully. "She doesn't seem very well."
"Oh, she's all right, my dear; I've been up to see her and she's only a little over-tired. After all, at her age, she's bound to feel tired sometimes."
Joan weakened. "Well, wait a minute, then, while I go and say good-bye."
They made their way down the steep hill and over the bridge to the far side of the river. The water was rushing in a noisy torrent between the rocks and boulders.
"Oh! How I love the noise of it," he exclaimed. "It's life, just life!"
She looked at his lined and ageing face and marvelled at his enthusiasms. He was so full of them still and of a great self-courage that nothing had ever had the power to break. They strolled along the narrow path under the fresh spring green, keeping the river that Richard loved beside them all the way. He took her hand and held it and she did not resist; she was feeling very grateful towards this friend who had come from the world and found her. Presently she grew tired, it was hot down there by the river.
He noticed her lagging steps: "Rest, my dear, we've walked too far."
They sat down under the trees and for a long time neither spoke. He was the first to break the silence: