vicar of
Clathampton, Warwickshire.'

This dubious little daub of whitewash only brought a rather sad smile to
her lips. She left her tea, and went out into the air. There at the gate
was Miltoun coming in. Her heart leaped. But she went forward quietly,
and greeted him with cast-down eyes, as if nothing were out of the
ordinary.

CHAPTER XV

Exaltation had not left Miltoun. His sallow face was flushed, his eyes
glowed with a sort of beauty; and Audrey Noel who, better than most
women, could read what was passing behind a face, saw those eyes
with the delight of a moth fluttering towards a lamp. But in a very
unemotional voice she said:

"So you have come to breakfast. How nice of you!"

It was not in Miltoun to observe the formalities of attack. Had he been
going to fight a duel there would have been no preliminary, just a look,
a bow, and the swords crossed. So in this first engagement of his with
the soul of a woman!

He neither sat down nor suffered her to sit, but stood looking intently
into her face, and said:

"I love you."

Now that it had come, with this disconcerting swiftness, she was
strangely calm, and unashamed. The elation of knowing for sure that
she was loved was like a wand waving away all tremors, stilling them to
sweetness. Since nothing could take away that knowledge, it seemed that
she could never again be utterly unhappy. Then, too, in her nature,
so deeply, unreasoningly incapable of perceiving the importance of any
principle but love, there was a secret feeling of assurance, of triumph.
He did love her! And she, him! Well! And suddenly panic-stricken, lest
he should take back those words, she put her hand up to his breast, and
said:

"And I love you."

The feel of his arms round her, the strength and passion of that moment,
were so terribly sweet, that she died to thought, just looking up at
him, with lips parted and eyes darker with the depth of her love than he
had ever dreamed that eyes could be. The madness of his own feeling kept
him silent. And they stood there, so merged in one another that they
knew and cared nothing for any other mortal thing. It was very still in
the room; the roses and carnations in the lustre bowl, seeming to know
that their mistress was caught up into heaven, had let their perfume
steal forth and occupy every cranny of the abandoned air; a hovering
bee, too, circled round the lovers' heads, scenting, it seemed, the
honey in their hearts.

It h