The evening was now merging into night. Far up above in the
darkening sky a pale star or two were shining. Night falls early
in September, and already the flowers in the small garden at the
villa were shutting up their pretty eyes.
It was a charming evening, soft, cool, melodious. The purling of
the brook below was delightful in itself, but other music blended
with it. The wind sighed so sweetly that the grasses in the
meadows beyond bowed to it, in compliment, no doubt, and thus
made a music of their own.
A clock somewhere struck the hour.
Agatha started to her feet. The tiny summer-house was so small
that her charming head almost touched its roof as she rose.
"Who could have thought it was so late?" said she. "Eight
o'clock! You must go!"
The surprise in her tone was surely complimentary; but Dillwyn
looked aggrieved.
"I believe you want to get rid of me," said he.
"Do you?" She stood and laughed at him. She had always been
charming; but Love, when he came to her, had lent her many
cosmetics, and now she was lovely. "You believe that?" She held
out her hands to him. "What a story!"
"My darling! my life!" said Dillwyn in a low tone fraught with
love. "Must I go now? When shall I see you again?"
"Why, to-morrow at the Poynter's. Now, do try to be there in
time. Get over your cases as quickly as you can. Oh no! _don't_.
Poor things! Of course your patients want you more than I do."
"Still, tell me that you want me too--just as much as they do."
"I needn't!" said she, tears rising in her eyes. She smiled
tremulously. "You know it!"
They had come out of the little summer-house and were strolling
towards the gate where they were to part. The night had fallen a
little lower, and everything lay in a soft dusk.
It was not so dark, however, but that a figure standing just
outside the gate, and hidden by a thick laurel bush, could see
and hear all that was going on in this small garden.
"What a beautiful sky!" said Agatha, stopping to look up at the
exquisite dome above her.
Dillwyn looked up too. Yes, it was exquisite--the glittering
small stars, shining like silver on that pale breast of blue!
Some old lines came to him. He caught her hand and pressed it to
his lips.
"'Look'st thou at the stars? If I were Heaven,
With all the eyes of Heaven would I look down on thee.'
I don't know what made me think of that. Perhaps because I wish I
had more eyes with which to look at you."
"Would you be the giant of old who had an eye in the back of his
head?" said she. "And after all, I think your verse a little
rude. To look down on me!" She stood back from him, and glanced
at him in the prettiest way. Happiness was developing in her a
tender and joyous coquetry. "On _me!_"
"Do you know," said Dillwyn, a little sadly, "I have often
thought what presumption it was on my part to dream of gaining
you."
"Oh now, now!" cried she, in a little expostulatory way. She ran
back to him and held out her hands. Her face expressed the
greatest penitence. "Presumption--what a word! Do you know,
Jack, I shall be thankful to my dying hour that you loved me.
Oh, you must go!" said she, raising her head. As she did so she
started.
"What was that? Jack, didn't you hear something?"
"Hear something? No," said Dillwyn. He looked towards the house.
"No, no! In there"--pointing to the bushes behind them. She
spoke in a low whisper, and he could feel that she was trembling.
"In there? Who could be there?"
"I don't know--perhaps---"
"One of the servants? Well, what matters--to-morrow I shall
tell Mrs. Greatorex all about it."
"I wasn't thinking of the servants; I was thinking--I suppose
it was foolish--but--I almost felt that Dr. Darkham was
there!"
"Nonsense, darling! Though, certainly"--with sudden wrath--
"it would be like the skulking scoundrel to be eavesdropping." He
spoke loudly--angrily. If Darkham was there he could hear.
"Still," said Agatha nervously, "go now. Do go. I am sure I
oughtn't to have let you come here at all this evening. If Aunt
Hilda hears of it, she---"
"Your Aunt Hilda will hear more than that to-morrow."
"Oh, Jack, must you tell her?"
"My dearest heart! Why not? You know that---"
"Yes, yes, I know. But we are going to the Poynters's to-morrow,
Jack, and we might have a happy day there, if--- Don't tell her
until after that."
"It shall be as you wish, of course. But, Agatha, is it wise?
However--well, then, the day after to-morrow I shall speak to
her. Now are you satisfied, you lovely tyrant?"
They laughed.
"Well, well, good-bye," said she regretfully. She raised her face
to his, and he caught her to his heart.
"To-morrow will never come," said he.
"Oh yes, it will--it will! And it will bring you!"
They clung to each other, and kissed and kissed again. Then he
left her, and she stood waving her hand to him until the scented
twilight hid him from her sight.
She turned back then from the rustic gate, and took a step or two
towards the house. Presently she paused, smiling--thinking
hopefully of all that he had said. He loved her, as she loved
him. Her face was beautiful in its delight, as she so stood
thinking on her love.
Suddenly she turned, as if hearing something, and the smile faded
from her lips. A shadow lay across her path. She knew quite well
who it was, even before Darkham's hand was laid upon her arm!