But the loveliness of the weather did not fail, and the whole day was set in Severn landscapes.  They first saw the great river like a sea with the Welsh mountains hanging in the sky behind as they came over the Mendip crest above Shipham.  They saw it again as they crossed the hill before Clifton Bridge, and so they continued, climbing to hill crests for views at Alveston and near Dursley, and so to Gloucester and the lowest bridge and thence back down stream again through fat meadow lands at first and much apple-blossom and then over gentle hills through wide, pale Nownham and Lidney and Alvington and Woolaston to old Chepstow and its brown castle, always with the widening estuary to the left of them and its foaming shoals and shining sand banks.  From Chepstow they turned back north along the steep Wye gorge to Tintern, and there at the snug little Beaufort Arms with its prim lawn and flower garden they ended the day’s journey.

Tintern Abbey they thought a poor graceless mass of ruin down beside the river, and it was fenced about jealously and locked up from their invasion.  After dinner Sir Richmond and Miss Grammont went for a walk in the mingled twilight and moonlight up the hill towards Chepstow.  Both of them were absurdly and nervously pressing to Belinda to come with them, but she was far too wise to take this sudden desire for her company seriously.  Her dinner shoes, she said, were too thin.  Perhaps she would change and come out a little later.  “Yes, come later,” said Miss Grammont and led the way to the door.

They passed through the garden.  “I think we go up the hill? " said Sir Richmond.

“Yes,” she agreed, “up the hill.”

Followed a silence.

Sir Richmond made an effort, but after some artificial and disconnected talk about Tintern Abbey, concerning, which she had no history ready, and then, still lamer, about whether Monmouthshire is in England or Wales, silence fell again.  The silence lengthened, assumed a significance, a dignity that no common words might break.

Then Sir Richmond spoke.  “I love, you,” he said, “with all my heart.”

Her soft voice came back after a stillness.  “I love you,” she said, “with all myself.”

“I had long ceased to hope,” said Sir Richmond, “that I should ever find a friend... a lover... perfect companionship....”

They went on walking side by side, without touching each other or turning to each other.

“All the things I wanted to think I believe have come alive in me,” she said....

“Cool and sweet,” said Sir Richmond.  “Such happiness as I could not have imagined.”

The light of a silent bicycle appeared above them up the hill and swept down upon them, lit their two still faces brightly and passed.

“My dear,” she whispered in the darkness between the high hedges.

They stopped short and stood quite still, trembling.  He saw her face, dim and tender, looking up to his.