“I am glad I have found you.”
“You have torn your sleeve!”
“In the briars—see my thumb.”
“Aphrodite has pricked her hand instead of her foot this time,” said Felix. “We shall see a new flower in the spring. Let me bind it up?” and he wrapped May’s handkerchief round it. Then Geoffrey and Valentine came, apart and yet together.
“I think it is time to return home,” said May, guessing at once from the expression of their faces and Margaret’s manner that something was wrong.
“Yes, I think so too,” said Margaret. “We have plenty of nuts.”
The joy of the day was over; so easily can a few jarring words cloud the loveliest sky and darken the sweetest landscape. They left the wood and returned to Greene Ferne. As they approached the house a labouring man advanced and spoke to Margaret.
“Be this yourn, miss?” he said, and offered her the lost earring. “I found un on the Down by the Cave, as you and measter here,” (looking at Geoffrey), “thuck night—”
“Wait a moment,” said Margaret, in confusion, for the night adventure had been carefully kept secret from all but Mrs Estcourt. “I will come to you in a moment.”
Valentine heard the man’s words, and noted his reference to Geoffrey. Instantly his jealousy was aroused—here was something secret. What had they to do with the Cave at night? Nor was Margaret’s halting explanation, that she had dropped it while riding, satisfactory to him. Altogether the situation was constrained. Both Valentine and Geoffrey stayed at the house as late as they could purposely, but neither found an opportunity of speaking alone with Margaret. When they left Greene Ferne the two old friends at once took different roads.