. Had he no plain,
touching words in which to express his very real love--words such as
every man can summon when he pleads for this greatest boon? Yet his
shame heightened the reverence in which he held her; passion of the
intellect breathed in his next words.

'If you cannot love me with your heart, in your mind you can be one
with me. You feel the great and the beautiful things of life. There is
no littleness in your nature. In reading with you just now I saw that
your delight in poetry was as spirit-deep as my own; your voice had the
true music, and your cheeks warmed with sympathy. You do not deny me
the right to claim so much kinship with you. I, too, love all that is
rare and noble, however in myself I fall below such ideals. Say that
you admit me as something more than the friend of the everyday world!
Look for once straight into my eyes and know me!'

There was no doubtful ring in this; Annabel felt the chords of her
being smitten to music. She held her hand to him.

'You are my very near friend, and my life is richer for your influence.'

'I may come and see you again before very long, when I have something
to tell you?'

'You know that our house always welcomes you.'

He released her hand, and they walked homewards. The sky was again
overcast. A fresh gust came from the fell-side and bore with it drops
of rain.

'We must hasten,' Annabel said, in a changed voice. 'Look at that
magnificent cloud by the sun!'

'Isn't the rain sweet here?' she continued, anxious to re-establish the
quiet, natural tone between them. 'I like the perfume and the taste of
it. I remember how mournful the rain used to be in London streets.'

They regained the house. Annabel passed quickly upstairs. Egremont
remained standing in the porch, looking forth upon the garden. His
reverie was broken by a voice.

'How gloomy the rain is here! One doesn't mind it in London; there's
always something to do and somewhere to go.'

It was Paula. Egremont could not help showing amusement.

'Do you stay much longer?' he asked.

'I don't know.'

She spoke with indifference, keeping her eyes averted.

'I must catch the mail at Penrith this evening,' he said. 'I'm afraid
it will be a wet drive.'

'You're going, are you? Not to Jersey again, I hope?

'Why not?'

'It seems to make people very dull. I shall warn all my friends against
it.'

She hummed an air and left him.

Late in the afternoon Egremont took leave of his friends.