The two passed on at a smart pace up the meadow, Mr Beecham looking after them with a dream in his eyes.
Overhead, on this afternoon, was a sky gloomy and threatening; but on the horizon were rivers of pale golden light, giving hope and courage to the weary ones who were like to faint by the wayside. Suddenly a white light relieved the gloom immediately above, and the golden rivers were lashed with dark promontories; but still, the farthest point was light. Again suddenly a white glory burst through the gloom, dazzling the eyes and breaking the clouds into fantastic shapes, which fled from it like the witches of evil fleeing before the majestic genii of good. Another change, and all gradually toned down into the soft repose of a calm evening, bearing the promise of a pleasant day to follow.
‘I have lived alone too much,’ muttered Mr Beecham with a long-drawn breath, which is the only approach to a sigh ventured upon by a man past middle age; ‘and my own morbid broodings make me superstitious, showing me symbols in everything. I hope this one may turn out well, however.’
Philip and Madge had disappeared by this time, and Mr Beecham walked slowly on to the village.
When the young people reached the homestead, Madge announced that Philip had come to tell them something very important, which he had refused to reveal until they should be in the house.
Aunt Hessy glanced uneasily from one to the other; but seeing no sign of disturbance on either face, her uneasiness passed away. She concluded that it was some jest with which Philip had been teasing Madge.
‘I have seen Mr Shield again to-day,’ he began, ‘and I have received new instructions from him.’
‘He is not going to send you off to Griqualand, after all?’ queried Madge quickly.
‘O no; but maybe you would prefer that he should order me off there, rather than tell me to take chambers in town.’
‘Chambers in town! What can that be for?’