For the moment she had forgotten everything but love and love's rapture. It was as though life spread before her in limitless glory; she thought nothing of the dark foe with whose ever-watchful, ever-threatening presence she had become so familiar. They talked long; only the lengthening and deepening shadow of the trees reminded them at length that hours had passed whilst they sat here. 'The boat will have gone,' Emily said. 'Never mind. We will get a conveyance at the hotel. And you must have refreshment of some kind. Shall we see what they can give us to eat at the King's Arms? To be sure we will. It will be our first meal together.' They rose. 'Emily!' 'Yes, Wilfrid?' 'I can trust you? You will not fail me?' 'Not if I am living, Wilfrid.' 'Oh, but I shall of course see you before Wednesday. To-morrow is Sunday--' He checked himself. Sunday was the day he always gave to Beatrice. But he durst not think of that now. 'On Sunday there are so many people about,' he continued. 'Will you come here again on Monday afternoon?' Emily promised to do so. 'I will write to you to-morrow, and again a letter for Tuesday, giving you the last directions. But I may have to see you on Tuesday. May I call at your lodgings?' 'If you need to. Surely you may? My--my husband?' 'My wife!' They walked to the hotel, and thence, when dusk was falling, started to drive homewards. They stopped at the end of Emily's street, and Wilfrid walked with her to the door. 'Till Monday afternoon,' he said, grasping her hand as if he clung to it in fear. Then he found another vehicle. It was dark when he reached home. CHAPTER XXIV THE UNEXPECTED Late in the evening Wilfrid received a visit from his father. Mr. Athel had dined with his sister, and subsequently accompanied his nieces to a concert. Beatrice should have sung, but had broken her engagement on the plea of ill-health. 'Been at home all the evening?' Mr. Athel began by asking. 'I got home late,' Wilfrid answered, rising from his chair. His father had something to say which cost him hesitation. He walked about with his hands between the tails of his coat. 'Seen Beatrice lately?' he inquired at length. 'No; not since last Monday.' 'I'm afraid she isn't well. She didn't sing to-night. Didn't dine with us either.' Wilfrid kept silence. 'Something wrong?' was his father's next question. 'Yes, there is.' 'I'm sorry to hear that.' Wilfrid went to the fireplace and leaned his arm upon the mantelpiece. As he did not seem disposed to speak, his father continued-- 'Nothing serious, I hope?' 'Yes; something serious.' 'You don't mean that? Anything you can talk about?' 'I'm afraid not. I shall go and see Beatrice as usual tomorrow. I may be at liberty to tell you after that, though probably not for a few days.' Mr. Athel looked annoyed.