But there was an interest beyond that of character in the abstraction of his air. Of what was he thinking, of whom? The wonder of whom another is thinking is the germ of the wish and the hope that the thought may be of one's self. A twinge of jealous fear follows it. At this moment she grasped the realisation of a kindness that had been at pains to show solicitude, to be individual. His words and looks and hand pressure poured in warm remembrance into her heart. He had helped her, he would have helped her more. She knew of what joy they were on the verge. Yet she hesitated. She felt unnerved. Must she go on in spite of her tear-washed eyes, which he would instantly perceive, or return unseen and send Scilla with a message? True, she had promised to go herself. She wanted to speak to him too, to thank him, to explain. But it seemed all at once as though it would be much easier to send Scilla. Her very shyness was surrender, but this she did not know. And while she hesitated, he suddenly turned and their eyes met. CHAPTER VIII 'SIN THE TRAVELLER' It was a flash of the most intensely delighted surprise that illumined Borlase's face. Its reflection stole over hers and she smiled at him. Full knowledge of the hidden truth of both hearts pierced each at once. Her smile decided him. He knew her well. He knew she had been taken unawares, and might resent her involuntary self-betrayal to herself when she realised it, as in another moment she might do. She had not moved. It seemed to him that she expected him to go to her. His heart leapt as he perceived that here at last was what he wanted, she was no longer unconscious. He saw a change even in the poise of her figure, she was shy and uncertain. Yet there was a gleam in her eyes, clear and steady, that defied her strange confusion. Seizing reins and whip he was instantly alongside of her. He jumped down and took her hands. 'Anna,' he said, 'you know now what I have been waiting for, what I am longing to ask for, what I want to make me a happy man. You know, because at last you can give it me, cannot you, my darling?' He drew her nearer. 'Give me the right to comfort you in every trouble,' he said. 'Let us share all joys and sorrows. I have loved you so long. Will you be my wife, Anna?' For a moment she turned away, feeling that she could scarcely bear him to see her face. She was half ashamed of her happiness. She could not speak. She felt as though there were a world of happiness in her eyes. Then the thought came that it would make him happy to see it there. And so she raised her eyes to his and he did see it. 'And are you going back with me?' he said after a while. She shook her head in a way expressive to him of a delightful amount of regret. 'No. Clothilde is going, and we are going to walk by the moor and the wood. We shall get home sooner.' 'Then you have persuaded her. Who would you not persuade to be good and do right? But may I not drive you both?'