would be my aversion,' he said to her. 'It is that which I want to avoid,—chiefly for your sake.' Then she promised him that she would wait patiently for his time—'even though it should be for seven years,' she said, looking up into his face and trying to find there some sign of approbation. 'That's nonsense,' he said. 'People are not patriarchs nowadays. I suppose we shall have to wait two years. And that's a deuce of a bore,—a terrible bore.' And there was that in the tone of his voice which grated on her feelings, and made her wretched for the moment.
As he parted with her for the night on her own side of the little bridge which led from one garden to the other, he put his arm round her to embrace her and kiss her, as he had often done at that spot. It had become a habit with them to say their evening farewells there, and the secluded little nook amongst the shrubs was inexpressibly dear to Lily. But on the present occasion she made an effort to avoid his caress. She turned from him—very slightly, but it was enough, and he felt it. 'Are you angry with me?' he said. 'Oh, no! Adolphus; how can I be angry with you?' And then she turned to him and gave him her face to kiss almost before he had again asked for it. 'He shall not at any rate think that I am unkind to him,—and it will not matter now,' she said to herself, as she walked slowly across the lawn, in the dark, up to her mother's drawing-room window.
'Well, dearest,' said Mrs Dale, who was there alone; 'did the beards wag merry in the Great Hall this evening?' That was a joke with them, for neither Crosbie nor Bernard Dale used a razor at his toilet.
'Not specially merry. And I think it was my fault, for I have a headache. Mamma, I believe I will go at once to bed.'
'My darling, is there anything wrong?'
'Nothing, mamma. But we had such a long ride; and then Adolphus is going, and of course we have so much to say. To-morrow will be the last day, for I shall only just see him on Wednesday morning; and as I want to be well, if possible, I'll go to bed.' And so she took her candle and went.
When Bell came up, Lily was still awake, but she begged her sister not to disturb her. 'Don't talk to me, Bell,' she said. 'I'm trying to make myself quiet, and I half feel that I should get childish if I went on talking. I have almost more to think of than I know how to manage.' And she strove, not altogether unsuccessfully, to speak with a cheery tone, as though the cares which weighed upon her were not unpleasant in their nature. Then her sister kissed her and left her to her thoughts.
And she had great matter for thinking; so great, that many hours sounded in her ears from the clock on the stairs before she brought her thoughts to a shape that satisfied herself. She did so bring them at last, and then she slept. She did so bring them, toiling over her work with tears that made her pillow wet, with heart-burning and almost with heart-breaking, with much doubting, and many anxious, eager inquiries within her own bosom as to that which she ought to do, and that which she could endure to do. But at last her resolve was taken, and then she slept.
It had been agreed between them that Crosbie should come down to the Small House on the next day after breakfast, and remain there till the time came for riding. But Lily determined to alter this arrangement, and accordingly put on her hat immediately after breakfast, and posted herself at the bridge, so as to intercept her lover as he came. He soon appeared with his friend Dale, and she at once told him her purpose.
'I want to have a talk with you, Adolphus, before you go in to mamma; so come with me into the field.'
'All right,' said he.
'And Bernard can finish his cigar on the lawn. Mamma and Bell will join him there.'
'All right,' said Bernard. So they separated; and Crosbie went away with Lily into the field where they had first learned to know each other in those haymaking days.
She did not say much till they were well away from the house; but answered what words he chose to speak,—not knowing very well of what he spoke. But when she considered that they had reached the proper spot, she began very abruptly.
'Adolphus,' she said, 'I have something to say to you,—something to which you must listen very carefully.' Then he looked at her, and at once knew that she was in earnest.
'This is the last day on which I could say it,' she continued; 'and I am very glad that I have not let the last day go by without saying it. I should not have known how to put it in a letter.'
'What is it, Lily?'
'And I do not know that I can say it properly; but I hope that you will not be hard upon me. Adolphus, if you wish that all this between us should be over, I will consent.'
'Lily!'
