For a long time he was silent, and she did not dare to look at the suffering in his face.
“Honora,” he said at last, “my most earnest wish in life will be for your happiness. And whatever may, come to you I hope that you will remember that I am your friend, to be counted on. And that I shall not change. Will you remember that?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She looked at him now, and through the veil of her tears she seemed to see his soul shining in his eyes. The tones of a distant church bell were borne to them on the valley breeze.
Peter glanced at his watch.
“I am afraid,” he said, “that I haven't time to go back to the house—my train goes at seven. Can I get down to the village through the valley?”
Honora pointed out the road, faintly perceptible through the trees beneath them.
“And you will apologize for my departure to Mrs. Holt?”
She nodded. He took her hand, pressed it, and was gone. And presently, in a little clearing far below, he turned and waved his hat at her bravely.