o the regions of the Pure Idea, where the
eternal values are disclosed and Peace has her dwelling. And, precisely
because of all this, he could take Honoria's presence lightly, be
chivalrously solicitous of her entertainment and well-being, and talk
to her with greater freedom than ever heretofore. He ceased to be on
his guard with her because, in good truth, it seemed to him there
ceased to be anything to guard against. For the time being, at all
events, he had got to the other side of all that, and so she and his
relation to her, had become part of that charming but faraway melody
which was no concern of his--though mighty great and altogether worthy
concern of others, of Ludovic Quayle, for example.--And in his present
tranquil humour he could listen to the sweetness of that melody
ungrudgingly. It was pleasant. He could enjoy it without envy--though
it was none of his.

But to Honoria's seeing, it must be owned, matters shaped themselves
very differently. For the usually unperturbed, the chaste and gallant
soul of her endured violent assaults, violent commotions, the origin of
which she but partially understood. And these Richard's frankness, his
courteous, in some sort brotherly, good-fellowship, served to intensify
rather than allay. The feeling of the noble horse under her, the cool,
westerly wind in her face, went to steady her nerves, and restore the
self-possession, courage of judgment, and clearness of thought, which
had been lacking to her during the past twenty-four hours. Nevertheless
she rode as through a but-newly-discovered country, familiar objects
displaying alien aspects, familiar phrases assuming unlooked-for
significance, a something challenging and fateful meeting her
everywhere. The whole future seemed to hang in the balance, and she
waited, dreading yet longing, to see the scale turn.

This afternoon the harvesters were carrying the corn. Red-painted
waggons, drawn by sleek, heavy-made cart-horses, crawled slowly across
the blond stubble. It was pretty to see the rusty-gold sheaves tossed
up from the shining prongs of the pitchforks on to the mountainous
load. Honoria and Richard watched this, a little minute, from the
grass-ride bordering the roadway beneath the elms. Next came the
high-lying moorland, beyond the lodges. The fine-leaved heath was thick
with red-purple blossom. Patches of dusky heather were frosted with
dainty pink. Spikes of genista and beds of needle-furze showed sharply
yel