‘Word of honour?’
‘Word of honour!’
‘I am coming—you may come and look at me, if you like; but mind: don’t you try to look down.’
I walked to the mouth of the Cave, and there, a few yards above me, was the beautiful head peeping over the summit, the eyes smiling down into mine. Only the face was visible; she must have been stretched full length on the rock.
A few moments, and I was in soft delicious touch of her again, as we crept along the ledge; and I kept touch, as we crossed the angle of the slope on our way to the schoolhouse, for, though help was no longer needed, Victoria still let me guard her hand. And so we walked through the twilight, without wanting to speak a word.
That lecture was never delivered. When I saw all their happy faces in the schoolroom, I felt that I could not spoil their holiday. I accordingly chose another subject, while the Ancient was making his introductory speech, and trusted to my star. The star was friendly. The Ancient wasted a good deal of time; and, when he sat down, I was ready for a spirited improvisation on the Benefits of the Printing Press, with which they were perfectly content.
‘Light the torches, Reuben,’ said the old man when the applause had subsided, ‘and let the youngsters go bird-nesting on the Ridge, for the wind-up. Victoria, and all the girls that are good girls, will stay behind and sing us a song. There is light enough on the Green.’
CHAPTER XXII.
MISUNDERSTANDING.
A quarrel with Victoria?—no, not a quarrel, I want another word. Only ‘a something.’ What is it? I do not know.
Victoria has become ‘unaccountable’—we will put it in that way. There is no knowing what to be at with Victoria: the grievance is there. And I have tried so hard to find out.