‘Yes, it is I,’ she answered coldly.
The next moment he was by her side.
‘I came after you. I could not let you go home without speaking a word to you.’
The voice was strangely agitated, and its agitation communicated itself to the hearer. She turned to him trembling violently, with an impulsive cry.
‘O Ambrose, what has happened?’
‘Do not ask me to-night,’ was the reply.
‘When I have thought it all over, I shall be able to explain, but not now. My darling, you must forgive me if I seem unkind and rude, but I have been in great, great trouble, and even now I can scarcely realise it all.’
‘You have seen the Bishop?’ she asked, thinking to touch the quick of his trouble, and lead him to confession.
‘I have seen him, and, as I expected, I shall have to resign or suffer a long persecution. Do not ask me to tell you more yet! Only forgive me for having seemed cold and unkind—I would cut off my right hand rather than cause you pain.’
They were walking on side by side in the direction of the ‘Larches.’ Not once did Bradley attempt to embrace the woman he loved, or even to take her hand. For a time she retained her self-possession, but at last, yielding to the sharp strain upon her heart, she stopped short, and with a sob, threw her arms around his neck.