For an hour and a half, perhaps; and then she heard the tinkle of sleigh bells. They might be somebody else's. But they came nearer, and very near, and stopped; only Dolly heard a mixed jangle of the bells, as if the horse had thrown his head up and given a confused shake to them all. The next thing was the gate falling to, and a step crunching the crisp snow. Then the house door opened with no preliminary knock; and somebody was throwing off wraps in the hall.
Dolly had made a step or two forward, and stopped; and when Sandie appeared on the threshold, she was standing in the middle of the room, as pretty a picture of shy joy as a man need wish to see in his heart or his house. If Mrs. Eberstein could have been there and watched his greeting of her, the lady's doubts respecting his being "the right man" would perhaps have been solved.
But after the first hasty word or two, it was very silent.
"Dolly," Mr. Shubrick said at last. And there he stopped; nothing followed.
"What were you going to say?" Dolly whispered.
"So much, that I do not know how to begin. I cannot get hold of the end of anything. Are you not going to let me see your eyes? I do not know where I am, till I get a look into them."
He smiled a moment after; for, although shyly and fleetingly, the brown eyes were lifted for a brief glance to his. What a sweet, tender simpleness was in them, and yet what a womanly, thoughtful brow was above them; and, yes, Sandie read somewhat else that a man likes to read; a fealty of love to him that would never fail. It went to his heart. But he saw too that Dolly's colour had left her cheeks, though at first they were rosy enough; and in the lines of her face generally and the quiver of her lip he could see that the nervous tension was somewhat too much. He must lead off to commoner subjects.
"Who is here with you?"
"Nobody."
"You do not mean that you are alone here, Dolly?"