’Rather, they have never had it, and it has no chance of developing.  You know, it isn’t a matter of course for people to see that they are under an enormous obligation to the children they bring into the world; except in a parent here and there, that comes only with very favourable circumstances.  When there’s no leisure, no meditation, no peace and quietness, —­ when, instead of conversing, people just nod or shout to each other as they spin round and round the gulf, —­ men and women practically return to the state of savages in all that concerns their offspring.  The brats have come into existence, and must make the best of it.  Servants, governesses, schoolmasters —­ anybody but the parents —­ may give thought to children.  Well, it’s a matter for the individual.  I shouldn’t feel comfortable myself.’

‘It’s a matter for the world, too,’ said Mary.

Harvey nodded.  As he sat at the foot of the piled stones, his hand touched a sprig of last year’s heather; the stem was hung with dry, rustling, colourless bells, which had clung there all through the cold, stormy months, telling of beauty that was past, and of beauty that was to come.  He broke it off, and showed it to his companion.  Until the time for moving, they talked of simpler things, and Mary Abbott recovered her spirits.

CHAPTER 3

Turning regretfully from the place of rest, with its lulling sounds and noble prospects, they began to descend the other side of the mountain, which was more rugged than that by which they had come up.  Harvey timed the walk so well, that they reached the point of the road where Alma would meet them, at a few minutes before the time agreed upon.  No one was in sight.  The road in its inland direction could be scanned for a quarter of a mile; the other way it curved rapidly, and was soon hidden by gorse-bushes.

‘I hear nothing,’ said Rolfe, when they had stood silent for a little.  ’A mistake is impossible; the man has driven to meet us here before.  Shall we walk on?’

They proceeded slowly, stopping from time to time.  Harvey was puzzled by this unpunctuality; it would soon be a quarter to two.  He began to feel hungry, and his companion looked tired.  Of a sudden they heard the sound of a vehicle approaching behind them.

‘It can’t be Alma.  She wouldn’t have gone farther than ——­’

But the horse appeared round the curve of the road, and behind it was a dogcart, and in the dogcart sat Alma, alone.  At sight of them she pulled up abruptly, so abruptly that the horse reared a little.  Harvey walked forward.

‘You’ve been driving yourself?’

‘Of course.  Why not?’ replied Alma in a strangely high key.

‘How have we missed you?’

As he put this question he became aware of something very unusual in his wife’s appearance.  Alma was pallid and shaking; her small felt hat had got out of position, and her hair was disordered, giving her a wild, rakish aspect.  He saw, too, that the horse dripped with sweat; that it glared, panted, trembled, and could not for a moment stand still.