Meynell felt a natural surprise. He paused an
instant, and then said with gentle emphasis:
"I don' think there will be anything to wound her. At any rate, there
will be nothing new, or strange--to _her_--in what is said to-night."
"Oh, no!" Then, after a moment's awkwardness, she said, "We shall soon be
going away."
His face changed.
"Going away? I thought you would be here for the winter!"
"No. Mother is so much better, we are going to our little house in the
Lakes, in Long Whindale. We came here because mother was ill--and Aunt
Rose begged us. But--"
"Do you know"--he interrupted her impetuously--"that for six months I've
had a hunger for just one fortnight up there among the fells?"
"You love them?" Her face bloomed with pleasure. "You know the dear
mountains?"
He smiled.
"It doesn't do to think of them, does it? You should see the letters on
my table! But I may have to take a few days' rest, some time. Should I
find you in Long Whindale--if I dropped down on you--over Goat Scar?"
"Yes--from December till March!" Then she suddenly checked the happiness
of her look and tone. "I needn't warn you that it rains."
"Doesn't it rain! And everybody pretends it doesn't. The lies one tells!"
She laughed.
They stood looking at each other. An atmosphere seemed to have sprung up
round them in which every tone and movement had suddenly become
magnified--significant.
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