“Then let us do without promising,” he urged, “only tell me this. If anything should happen to make it possible—if I get on—will you let me come back? I shall never lose hope if you do not forget me, and I can feel there is a chance still.”
It is easy enough to promise to remember any one, and this arrangement struck her as very suitable; it was, in other words, almost what she would have proposed herself, for she liked Harry. She assented readily.
When they parted he went out to the Vicar, who was still in the orchard.
“Good-bye,” he said, holding out his hand, “I am glad I saw her after all. I am much happier now.”
And he left the old man wondering at the hopefulness on his face.
Presently Isoline stepped out, cool and dainty, into the greenness of the orchard.
“I have told him that I cannot bind myself without your consent, uncle,” she said in her clear voice. And the Vicar wondered more.
As for Harry, he turned his head towards Waterchurch with a not unhappy heart. Certainly his interview had not been all that he had hoped, but he was brave, and a settled purpose upholds a man much. And, as we all know, half a loaf is better than no bread.