He left her very exhausted, and if her spirits sank a little after his departure, Raymond’s tended to rise.  The night air and moonlight brisked him up; he felt a reaction towards Sabina and perceived that she must have suffered a good deal.  He threw the blame on her mother.  Once out of Bridetown things would settle down; and if his brother came to his senses and asked him to return, he would make it a condition that he worked henceforth at Bridport.  A feeling of hatred for Bridetown mastered him.

He descended West Street until the town lay behind him, then turned to the left through a wicket, crossed some meadows and reached a popular local tryst and sanctity:  the Lovers’ Grove.  A certain crudity in the ideas of Miss Ironsyde struck Raymond.  How simple and primitive she was after all.  Could such an unworldly and inexperienced woman be right?  He doubted it.  But he went on through the avenue of lime and sycamore trees which made the traditional grove.  Beneath them ran pavement of rough stones, that lifted the pathway above possible inundation, and, to-night, the pattern of the naked boughs above was thrown down upon the stones in a black lace work by the moon.  The place was very still, but half a mile distant there dreamed great woods, whence came the hooting of an owl.

Raymond stood to listen, and when the bird was silent, he heard a footfall ring on the paving-stones and saw Sabina coming to him.  At heart she had been fearful that he would not appear; but this she did not whisper now.  Instead she pretended confidence and said, “I knew you’d come!”

He responded with fair ardour and tried to banish his grievances against her.  He assured her that all her alarm and tribulation were not his fault, but her own; and her responsive agreement and servile tact, by its self-evidence defeated its own object and fretted the man’s nerves, despite his kindly feelings.  For Sabina, in her unspeakable thankfulness at the turn of events, sank from herself and was obsequious.  When they met he kissed her and presently, holding his hand, she kissed it.  She heaped blame upon herself and praised his magnanimity; she presented the ordinary phenomena of a happy release from affliction and fear; but her intense humility was far from agreeable to Raymond, since its very accentuation served to show his own recent actions in painful colours.

He told her what his aunt was going to do; and where a subtler mind had held its peace, Sabina erred again and praised Miss Ironsyde.  In truth, she was not at her best to-night and her excitement acted unfavourably on Raymond.  He fought against his own emotions, and listened to her high-strung chatter and plans for the future.  A torrent of blame had better suited the contrite mood in which she met him; but she took the blame on her own shoulders, and in her relief said things sycophantic and untrue.

He told her almost roughly to stop.