"But when parson's there," he said afterwards, "I always sits so dumb as a rook in a pie. It comes over me to say summat, and then I catches parson's eye and back the wicked words go into my mouth like rabbits. He's a good man is parson, but he surely lays on me like snow in a ditch. Well, now, go out into the fields and lanes and enjoy this fine summer-time, you two. We can talk about Sir Richard and such sober topics to-morrow. Come, give I a kiss, my maid. You're looking sweet as laylock in a garden." Edward would not let Elizabeth torment herself about the future, and she, so deep in love, could not fret for long with Edward hers now whatever happened ... hers ... ah, could he but know how completely hers.... "Edward, my own, are you sure you love me as much, now that we are husband and wife?" She clung to him in a self-inflicted agony of doubt, knowing full well that in a moment it would be turned to the warmth of a delicious security. "My foolish Lizzie," he murmured, "I love you a thousand times more." "But you seem sad sometimes, as if you half regretted what you had done." "I am not sad, my dearest. If I seem serious, it is because I am awed by the knowledge that you are mine." "Oh, and I am yours, I am indeed yours." Edward looked into her burning brown eyes that were unlike any other brown eyes he had ever seen, because they caught somehow the hues and shadows of her deep auburn hair, as a woodland pool appears stained with autumn like the trees above. "Your eyes," he murmured, and he felt a longing to drown within their deeps. "Do you like my eyes?" "Elizabeth! You vain, vain Elizabeth!" They kissed, while a summer wind sang its small song, its intimate and idle song among the grasses at their feet. "Hark to the little wind," said Edward. "Of what does it remind you?" "Only of summer," she whispered. "Don't you think it is like a child singing to herself while she plays alone with her toys?" "What funny fancies you have, Edward." A sudden comprehension of what might be seized him in a rapture, and he clasped his Elizabeth closer. "Can you not tell me of what I am thinking?" he whispered. She raised her eyes slowly, divined the thought that was beating from his heart into hers, blushed as red as her own red heart which now beat as fast as his, buried her face for a moment in his breast, then looked up quickly and for answer gave him her lips. The moths were dancing over the petunias, when the lovers came home to the farm. "But you'll never have such another day," said old James. "And if you've missed your tea, you can make up for it with supper. But as for me, I'm going to bed." He lighted his candle and stumped upstairs, chuckling to himself. On the landing he paused and leaning over the balustrade called down: "And if you miss your breakfast, you can make up for it with dinner." They could hear him still chuckling to himself long after he had closed his bedroom door.