A curious change had come over Denham soon after Harry Stride's visit.
He seemed to have grown grave and rather silent. Even his interest in
collecting seemed to flag. If Ben Halse noticed it he held his tongue.
Verna noticed it, and resolved not to hold hers.
Her opportunity came. They had climbed to the resting-place which had
been the goal of their ride that first day: that great natural window in
the rock tooth which overlooked such a magnificent sweep of wilderness;
in fact, this point had become rather a favourite objective in their
many expeditions _a deux_. Here was her chance, here alone, beyond
every possibility of interruption; here, alone together, the world far
away. But before she could begin he said--
"I have something to tell you."
The girl's face went white, and something like a gasp escaped her. Like
lightning there flashed through her brain the one and only possible
thought. He was going to tell her he had made a mistake, or that there
was some impediment and they must part. Her love for him had reached
such a height of passionate adoration that where he was concerned she
had no pride left.
He gazed at her in blank amazement. Then she was clasped tight in his
embrace.
"For God's sake don't look like that," he said. "My darling one, what
is it?"
"Are you going to tell me there is something that must part us?" she
managed to gasp out.
"Good God, no!" he answered vehemently. "At least," he added, sadly
doubtful, "that depends on yourself."
The colour came back to her face and her eyes lit up, sweetly,
radiantly.
"Depends on myself," she repeated. "Why, in that case nothing in the
world can part us--nothing!"
"Are you sure?"
"Nothing. Nothing," she reiterated. "Alaric, my darling, you have not
been yourself of late. There is something on your mind, and that is
what you are going to tell me now. Am I right?"