'Where do you say they are going?' inquired Christopher, as they followed
the footman.
'Rookington Park--about three miles out of Sandbourne, in the opposite
direction to this.'
'A widow,' Christopher murmured.
Faith overheard him. 'That makes no difference to us, does it?' she said
wistfully.
Forty minutes later they were driving along an open road over a ridge
which commanded a view of a small inlet below them, the sands of this
nook being sheltered by crumbling cliffs. Here at once they saw, in the
full light of the sun, two women standing side by side, their faces
directed over the sea.
'There she is again!' said Faith. 'She has walked along the shore from
the lawn where we saw her before.'
'Yes,' said the coachman, 'she's a curious woman seemingly. She'll talk
to any poor body she meets. You see she had been out for a morning walk
instead of going to bed, and that is some queer mortal or other she has
picked up with on her way.'
'I wonder she does not prefer some rest,' Faith observed.
The road then dropped into a hollow, and the women by the sea were no
longer within view from the carriage, which rapidly neared Sandbourne
with the two musicians.
6. THE SHORE BY WYNDWAY
The east gleamed upon Ethelberta's squirrel-coloured hair as she said to
her companion, 'I have come, Picotee; but not, as you imagine, from a
night's sleep. We have actually been dancing till daylight at Wyndway.'
'Then you should not have troubled to come! I could have borne the
disappointment under such circumstances,' said the pupil-teacher, who,
wearing a dress not so familiar to Christopher's eyes as had been the
little white jacket, had not been recognized by him from the hill. 'You
look so tired, Berta. I could not stay up all night for the world!'
'One gets used to these things,' said Ethelberta quietly. 'I should have
been in bed certainly, had I not particularly wished to use this
opportunity of meeting you before you go home to-morrow. I could not
have come to Sandbourne to-day, because we are leaving to return again to
Rookington. This is all that I wish you to take to mother--only a few
little things which may be useful to her; but you will see what it
contains when you open it.' She handed to Picotee a small parcel. 'This
is for yourself,' she went on, giving a small packet besides. 'It will
pay your fare home and back, and leave you something to spare.'
'Thank you,' said Picotee docilely.
'Now, Picotee,' continued the elder, 'let us talk for a few minutes
before I go back: we may not meet again for some time.' She put her arm
round the waist of Picotee, who did the same by Ethelberta; and thus
interlaced they walked backwards and forwards upon the firm flat sand
with the motion of one body animated by one will.
'Well, what did you think of my poems?'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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