Ethel’s heart seemed to stop beating for a couple of seconds and then went on at express pace. She had not seen her lover for a whole week, and now that they were both back at the Chase what less than a fairy-tale was it that she had to pour into his ear? Hastily putting on her outdoor things she left the house by a side door, and crossing the park to a spot where five huge elms grew within touch of each other, there waited. Close by ran the narrow footpath which led from the Chase to a door in the boundary wall of the park of which Everard Lisle possessed a key, and three minutes’ walk beyond which was Elm Lodge. It was by this footpath that he went to and from the Chase, and so saved himself a long detour by way of the main entrance to the park.
Not long had Ethel to wait. Presently she saw Everard in the distance, pacing along with downcast mien and eyes which seemed to see nothing, unless it were some inward pictures conjured up by his own fancy. As a rule his bearing was so resolute and self-assured, he fronted the world so confidently, that Ethel could not help being struck by the change.
Not till Everard was within a few yards of her did Ethel emerge from the umbrage of the trees and go slowly to meet him. He gave a great start the moment his eyes fell on her, and all his face lighted suddenly up as she had foretold it would. Three or four quick strides brought him to her side, and the same instant she was enfolded in his arms and strained close to his heart. Gently disengaging herself she said—
“Is this the way to treat an unprotected female? You ought really to try to get the better of your primitive instincts. Marriage by capture went out centuries ago. But, oh, Everard, I have so much to tell you!”
She took his arm and together they began to pace slowly to and fro in the shadow of the great trees.
“Do you know, sir, in whose company you are?” she playfully went on presently. “Do you know that she who is now speaking to you is Miss Clare of Withington Chase?”
Everard stopped dead.
“Then what I thought must be true has come true!” he said; and on the instant all the gladness died out of his face, and half his youth seemed to go with it.
But Ethel was not looking at him just then and saw nothing of the change.
“Yes,” she resumed, “henceforth my name will be Ethel Thursby Clare. Only an hour ago I was told. I am no longer a waif, a nobody’s child. The mystery of my birth is a mystery no longer. I have found a father, a grandfather, a home—though, thanks to my dear aunts, I have never known the want of the last—and I owe them all to you—to you—to you!” As she spoke she faced him suddenly and gazed at him with deep love and devotion in her eyes.