The landscape without grew darker, and the young man’s figure seemed to be absorbed into the trunk of the tree.  The small stars filled in between the larger, the nebulae between the small stars, the trees quite lost their voice; and if there was still a sound, it was from the cascade of a stream which stretched along under the trees that bounded the lawn on its northern side.

At last the young girl did get to her feet and secure her retreat.  ’I have something to do, papa,’ she said.  ’I shall not be in the drawing-room just yet.’

‘Very well,’ replied he.  ‘Then I won’t hurry.’  And closing the door behind her, he drew his decanters together and settled down in his chair.

Three minutes after that a woman’s shape emerged from the drawing-room window, and passing through a wall-door to the entrance front, came across the grass.  She kept well clear of the dining-room window, but enough of its light fell on her to show, escaping from the dark-hooded cloak that she wore, stray verges of the same light dress which had figured but recently at the dinner-table.  The hood was contracted tight about her face with a drawing-string, making her countenance small and baby-like, and lovelier even than before.

Without hesitation she brushed across the grass to the tree under which the young man stood concealed.  The moment she had reached him he enclosed her form with his arm.  The meeting and embrace, though by no means formal, were yet not passionate; the whole proceeding was that of persons who had repeated the act so often as to be unconscious of its performance.  She turned within his arm, and faced in the same direction with himself, which was towards the window; and thus they stood without speaking, the back of her head leaning against his shoulder.  For a while each seemed to be thinking his and her diverse thoughts.

‘You have kept me waiting a long time, dear Christine,’ he said at last.  ’I wanted to speak to you particularly, or I should not have stayed.  How came you to be dining at this time o’ night?’

’Father has been out all day, and dinner was put back till six.  I know I have kept you; but Nicholas, how can I help it sometimes, if I am not to run any risk?  My poor father insists upon my listening to all he has to say; since my brother left he has had nobody else to listen to him; and to-night he was particularly tedious on his usual topics—­draining, and tenant-farmers, and the village people.  I must take daddy to London; he gets so narrow always staying here.’

‘And what did you say to it all?’

’Well, I took the part of the tenant-farmers, of course, as the beloved of one should in duty do.’  There followed a little break or gasp, implying a strangled sigh.

‘You are sorry you have encouraged that beloving one?’

‘O no, Nicholas . . .  What is it you want to see me for particularly?’

’I know you are sorry, as time goes on, and everything is at a dead-lock, with no prospect of change, and your rural swain loses his freshness!  Only think, this secret understanding between us has lasted near three year, ever since you was a little over sixteen.’