moments only perhaps, Rose Otway was "fey"; she
seemed to know that today was her cathedral marriage
day, and that an invisible choir was singing her
epithalamium.

The quarter past the hour chimed. She released
her hand from his, and touched him on the arm with
a lingering, caressing touch. He was so big and
strong, so gentle too -- all hers. And now, just as they
had found one another, she was going to lose him. It
seemed so unnatural and so cruel. "Jervis," she
whispered, and the tears ran down her face, "I think
you had better go now. I'd rather we said good-bye
here."

He got up at once. "Do you mean to tell your
mother?" he asked. And then, as he thought she
was hesitating: "I only want to know because, if so,
I will tell them at home."

She shook her head. "No," she said brokenly.
"I'd rather we said nothing now -- if you don't mind."

She lifted up her face to him as a child might have
done; and, putting his arm round her, he bent down
and kissed her, very simply and gravely. Suddenly,
he took her two hands and kissed their soft palms;
and then he stooped very low, and lifting the hem
of her cotton frock kissed that too.

"Rose?" he cried out suddenly. "Oh, Rose, I do
love you so!" And then, before she could speak he
had turned and was gone.

[[119]]

p118 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p119w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p120

v?