did, or said now,
would be like telling lies, or else being cruel. The only thing was to
keep away from people. And yet how keep away from his own guests?

He went back to the house for lunch, but both those guests were out, no
one seemed quite to know where. Restless, unhappy, puzzled, he wandered
round and about all the afternoon. Just before dinner he was told of
Mrs. Stormer's not being well, and that they would be leaving to-morrow.
Going--after three days! That plunged him deeper into his strange and
sorrowful confusion. He was reduced now to a complete brooding silence.
He knew he was attracting attention, but could not help it. Several
times during dinner he caught Gordy's eyes fixed on him, from under those
puffy half-closed lids, with asphyxiated speculation. But he simply
COULD not talk--everything that came into his mind to say seemed false.
Ah! it was a sad evening--with its glimmering vision into another's sore
heart, its confused gnawing sense of things broken, faith betrayed; and
yet always the perplexed wonder--"How could I have helped it?" And
always Sylvia's wistful face that he tried not to look at.

He stole out, leaving Gordy and his tutor still over their wine, and
roamed about the garden a long time, listening sadly to the owls. It was
a blessing to get upstairs, though of course he would not sleep.

But he did sleep, all through a night of many dreams, in the last of
which he was lying on a mountain side, Anna looking down into his eyes,
and bending her face to his. He woke just as her lips touched him.
Still under the spell of that troubling dream, he became conscious of the
sound of wheels and horses' hoofs on the gravel, and sprang out of bed.
There was the waggonette moving from the door, old Godden driving,
luggage piled up beside him, and the Stormers sitting opposite each other
in the carriage. Going away like that--having never even said good-bye!
For a moment he felt as people must when they have unwittingly killed
someone--utterly stunned and miserable. Then he dashed into his
clothes. He would not let her go thus! He would--he must--see her again!
What had he done that she should go like this? He rushed downstairs.
The hall was empty; nineteen minutes to eight! The train left at eight
o'clock. Had he time to saddle Bolero? He rushed round to the stables;
but the cob was out, being shoed. He would--he must get there in time.
It would show her anyway that he was not qu