'Yes—yes,' she returned eagerly; 'we must try to forget this. I cannot lose you altogether, Richard.'
'You will never lose me; perhaps—yes it will be better—I may go away for a little time; you must promise me one thing, to take care of yourself, if only for the sake of your old friend Richard.'
'Yes, I will promise,' she returned, bursting into tears. Oh, why was her heart so hard; why could she not love him? As she looked after him, walking with grave even strides down the garden path, a passionate pity and yearning seemed to wake in her heart. How good he was, how noble, how true. 'Oh, if he were not so young, and I could love him as he ought to be loved,' she said to herself as the gate clanged after him, and she was left alone in the sunset.
CHAPTER XX
WHARTON HALL FARM
'A dappled sky, a world of meadows,
Circling above us the black rooks fly
Forward, backward; lo, their dark shadow
Flits on the blossoming tapestry.
Bare grassy slopes, where kids are tethered
Round valleys like nests all ferny-lined,
Round hills, with fluttering tree-tops feathered,
Swell high in their freckled robes behind.'
Jean Ingelow.