himself even that he preferred not to be present at the wedding, but
resigning himself to the necessity, for it was not to be till the middle
of September, and it would be breaking up his holiday had he to come
back at that time. So this little interview was a leave-taking as well
as a solemn engagement for all the risks and dangers of life. The pain
in it, after that very sharp moment in the copse, was softened down into
a sadness not unsweet, as they came silently together from out of the
shadow into the quiet hemisphere of sky and space, which was over the
little centre of the cottage with its human glimmer of fire and lights.
The sky was unusually clear, and among those soft, rose-tinted clouds of
the sunset, which were no clouds at all, had risen a young crescent of a
moon, just about to disappear, too, in the short course of one of her
earliest nights. They lingered for a moment before they went indoors.
The depth of the combe was filled with the growing darkness, but the
ridges above were still light and softly edged with the silver of the
moon, and the distant road, like a long, white line, came conspicuously
into sight, winding for a little way along the hill-top unsheltered,
before it plunged into the shadow of the trees--the road that led into
the world, by which they should both depart presently to stray into such
different ways.

CHAPTER VI.

The drawing-room after dinner always looked cheerful. Perhaps the fact
that it was a sort of little oasis in the desert, and that the light
from those windows shone into three counties, made the interior more
cosy and bright. (There are houses now upon every knoll, and the wind
cannot blow on Windyhill for the quantity of obstructions it meets
with.) There was the usual log burning on the hearth, and the party in
general kept away from it, for the night was warm. Only Mr. Sharp, the
London lawyer, was equal to bearing the heat. He stood with his back to
it, and his long legs showing against the glow behind, a sharp-nosed,
long man in black, who had immediately suggested Mephistopheles to
Elinor, even though he was on the Compton side. He had taken his coffee
after dinner, and now he stood over the fire slowly sipping a cup of
tea. There was a look of acquisitiveness about him which suggested an
inclination to appropriate anything from the unnecessary heat of the
fire to the equally unnecessary tea. But Mr. Sharp had been on the
winning side. He had demonstra