da, darling, you shan't go
through the misery of being engaged and then being married. Oh, oh, what
shall I do to save you, Hilda?"
Quentyns and Hilda were standing still. They had moved out of the line
of light which streamed from the drawing room, and were standing under
the shadow of a great beech tree. Judy felt that she could almost hear
their words. From where she leant out of the window she could certainly
see their actions. Quentyns stooped suddenly and kissed Hilda on her
forehead; Hilda looked up at him and laid both her hands in his. He
folded them in a firm pressure, and again stooping, kissed her twice.
Upstairs in the nursery, misery was filling one little heart to the
brim. A sob caught Judy's breath--she felt as if she should choke. She
dared not look any more, but drawing down the blind, crept back into bed
and covered her head with the bed-clothes.
In the drawing room the guests stopped on, and never missed the two who
had stolen away across the moonlit lawn. One girl, it is true, might
have been noticed to cast some anxious glances toward the open window,
and the companion who talked to her could not help observing that she
scarcely replied to his remarks, and was not fully alive to his
witticisms; but the rest of the little world jogged on its way merrily
enough, unconscious of the Paradise which was so close to them in the
Rectory garden, and of the Purgatory which one little soul was enduring
upstairs.
"Hilda," said Quentyns, when they had stood for some time under the
beech tree, and had said many things each to the other, and felt a great
deal more than could ever be put into words. "Hilda," said Quentyns, and
all the poetry of the lovely summer evening seemed to have got into his
eyes and filled his voice, "I give you all, remember, all that a man can
give. I give you the love of my entire heart. My present is yours, my
future is to be yours. I live for you, Hilda--I shall always live for
you. Think what that means."
"I can quite understand it," replied Hilda, "for I also live for you. I
am yours, Jasper, for now and always."
"And I am a very jealous man," said Quentyns. "When I give all, I like
to get all."
Hilda laughed.
"How solemnly you speak," she said, stepping back a pace, and an almost
imperceptible jar coming into her voice. Then she came close again. "The
fault you will have to find with me is this, Jasper," she said, looking
fully at him with her sweet eyes; "I shall
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