Without a moment's pause, in my anxiety for our meeting to take place whilst he and I were alone, I stepped hastily forward. He was examining Lilian's drawing, when he caught the sound of my footstep and looked up. His eyes met mine—ah Philip! ah me!—with the grave calm gaze of a stranger!
I stood utterly powerless to move or speak; and perhaps I looked more than ever unlike my past self in that moment of bitter anguish. But suddenly the truth flashed upon him.
'Great heavens—Mary!' he ejaculated, catching me in his arms as I swayed towards him.
I was still speechless; and looking down into my face, he added gently, it seemed to me sorrowfully: 'My poor Mary!'
'Am I so changed as that, Philip?' I murmured in a low broken voice.
'I—I fear you have gone through more than you would allow me to know about,' he replied, reddening. Adding a little confusedly: 'How was it that I did not find you at home, Mary?'
'I did not expect you quite so soon as this,' I stammered out quite as confusedly. 'You said a month or six weeks, and it is only three weeks since I received your letter.'
'I—found myself free sooner than I expected; and of course set my face homewards at once. I arrived at Liverpool last evening, and travelled all night, in order to be here in good time in the morning.'
'Did you get here this morning?'
'Yes; you had only left half an hour or so when I arrived. I should have met you, they told me, had I not taken the wrong turning from the stile.'