Part 47 (1/2)

He unhooked a dark-lantern from a nail under the eaves and she did not notice how his hand shook with the slight strain, or dream that in making this offer he was taxing a convalescence which could ill afford such self-sacrifice. The lantern was lit, and they started.

CHAPTER XLI.

The first hundred yards of their course lay under motionless trees, whose upper foliage began to hiss with falling drops of rain. By the time that they emerged upon a glade it rained heavily.

”This is awkward,” said Grace, with an effort to hide her concern.

Winterborne stopped. ”Grace,” he said, preserving a strictly business manner which belied him, ”you cannot go to Sherton to-night.”

”But I must!”

”Why? It is nine miles from here. It is almost an impossibility in this rain.”

”True--WHY?” she replied, mournfully, at the end of a silence. ”What is reputation to me?”

”Now hearken,” said Giles. ”You won't--go back to your--”

”No, no, no! Don't make me!” she cried, piteously.

”Then let us turn.” They slowly retraced their steps, and again stood before his door. ”Now, this house from this moment is yours, and not mine,” he said, deliberately. ”I have a place near by where I can stay very well.”

Her face had drooped. ”Oh!” she murmured, as she saw the dilemma.

”What have I done!”

There was a smell of something burning within, and he looked through the window. The rabbit that he had been cooking to coax a weak appet.i.te was beginning to char. ”Please go in and attend to it,” he said. ”Do what you like. Now I leave. You will find everything about the hut that is necessary.”

”But, Giles--your supper,” she exclaimed. ”An out-house would do for me--anything--till to-morrow at day-break!”

He signified a negative. ”I tell you to go in--you may catch agues out here in your delicate state. You can give me my supper through the window, if you feel well enough. I'll wait a while.”

He gently urged her to pa.s.s the door-way, and was relieved when he saw her within the room sitting down. Without so much as crossing the threshold himself, he closed the door upon her, and turned the key in the lock. Tapping at the window, he signified that she should open the cas.e.m.e.nt, and when she had done this he handed in the key to her.

”You are locked in,” he said; ”and your own mistress.”

Even in her trouble she could not refrain from a faint smile at his scrupulousness, as she took the door-key.

”Do you feel better?” he went on. ”If so, and you wish to give me some of your supper, please do. If not, it is of no importance. I can get some elsewhere.”

The grateful sense of his kindness stirred her to action, though she only knew half what that kindness really was. At the end of some ten minutes she again came to the window, pushed it open, and said in a whisper, ”Giles!” He at once emerged from the shade, and saw that she was preparing to hand him his share of the meal upon a plate.

”I don't like to treat you so hardly,” she murmured, with deep regret in her words as she heard the rain pattering on the leaves. ”But--I suppose it is best to arrange like this?”

”Oh yes,” he said, quickly.

”I feel that I could never have reached Sherton.”

”It was impossible.”

”Are you sure you have a snug place out there?” (With renewed misgiving.)

”Quite. Have you found everything you want? I am afraid it is rather rough accommodation.”