Perhaps they both understood at that moment, though all that Michael said, was, ‘I am very glad that we have seen that—together.’ ‘So am I,’ she rejoined, softly. Then suddenly, almost at their feet, broke forth a gossipy, importunate, ‘Brek-kek-kek!’ and behind them children’s voices shouted. They smiled. The awe and the solemnity had gone, but the joy remained and was abiding. It did not die away, even after the sun had set and the golden rays were quenched in night. It made itself felt all through the long drive home through the darkling lanes, and it breathed out of the delicious scent of the firwoods, beneath which part of their road lay. It looked out of the eyes of both, as they clasped hands and parted after it was all over. That was the last of some cloudlessly happy days. It was, in reality, the first day of Michael’s summer holiday, and he knew it would be the best. On the following morning he set off to Leeds, where that year the British Medical Association had its annual meeting; after which, he and Roger were going to take a short country tour together. One evening, in August, soon after Michael had gone, Eleanor was startled to see Otho walk into her drawing-room, looking ill and haggard. He threw himself into a chair, gave a long kind of sigh, and asked her how she did. CHAPTER XXXVI THE SHADOW It seemed as if, when Otho came in, joy went out. Eleanor, as she viewed his sinister figure, and saw his haggard countenance, felt a chill steal over her in the midst of the August warmth. It was like the first breath of winter, sent as a warning when autumn days are mild and life delicious. ‘You have come back at last, Otho. Are you going to stay at Thorsgarth?’ ‘Just for two or three days. I’ve been there and put up my traps, and I meant to stay there, but it is such a dismal hole. It makes me creep all over. I could not stand it, so I thought I would look in upon you.’ ‘I am glad you did,’ she said, wondering a little why he had chosen rather to visit her than Magdalen. But she did not ask, and he did not mention the subject. He did not stay very long. She asked him if he came from London, and he said yes. She did not ask him about Gilbert. She had nearly forgotten him. The strength of the love she felt for Michael had effaced almost the recollection of the uncomfortable days she had passed during Gilbert’s Christmas visit, and the fears she had felt with regard to him. ‘I thought you would be coming before,’ she said, ‘for the shooting. People are saying it is something unheard of for you to be without a party at Thorsgarth just now.’ ‘People may mind their own business. It doesn’t suit me to have a party. I can’t afford.’ ‘Are you poor, Otho? Have you been losing money?’ ‘What a question to ask! If you inquired whether I’d got any money left _to_ lose, it would be more to the point.’ ‘I am very sorry to hear it. Are you going already?’ For he had risen.