“No, no; not fear,” she protested.
“I am sure you fear him, dear one.”
“Then you are wrong. Avoidance does not necessarily imply fear. Why will you persist in thinking that? You must have faith in me, Osbert.”
He could hardly resist that appeal backed by the love that was in the look she gave him. “I am offending again; how can I ask for pardon?” he said lovingly. “Only if you knew how I long for the end of this mystery—for there surely is a mystery, Philippa—to call you mine before the world, to defy and triumph over this scheming fellow, Zarka, you would not be hard on me. I want the sunshine for our love, not to have to lurk with it in the shade.”
“And it shall be,” she returned in the same tone. “Only one week, and the mist shall clear away, if indeed there be one?”
“Is there not?” he asked, smiling wistfully.
“Need there be?” she rejoined. “Is not the sun upon us now. Ah, how lovely, it is! Osbert, why will you torment yourself by seeing nothing but gloom?”
“I am a fool,” he said, as his trouble seemed to vanish. “At any rate, if there is a little cloud over us, I might know that the sun is behind it. My sun my glorious love, Philippa, my darling.”
He took her in his arms and kissed her. Suddenly she gave a cry and started up pushing him excitedly from her.
“Philippa!” he cried. “What is it?”