"Come!" she cried, with an alteration of manner and voice that was
almost stupefying to her hearer. "We have been here an unconscionable
time, and just think how awful it will be if our cabman has taken home
his tired horse! Of course, even at the twelfth hour, I have loads of
things to pack. And, since I don't know where I am going, the task of
selecting a reasonable stock of clothes is too appalling for words. Oh,
don't gaze at me as if I were a ghost, Derry! I am not about to flit
away into space. You will have another half hour of my company; because,
let that poor horse do his best, we sha'n't reach our respective
habitations till long after eleven o'clock."
Yet she was neither excited nor hysterical. A great load had been lifted
off her heart, and her naturally gay temperament was asserting itself
with vital insistence. There was no possibility of drawing back now.
Nothing but death could separate her from her lover. Nothing but death!
Well, that separation must come in the common order of things; but a
bright road stretched before her mind's eye through a long vista of
years, and her spirit sang within her and rejoiced exceedingly. No shred
of doubt or hesitation remained. She had passed already through the
storm, and though its clouds might roll in sullen thunder among distant
hills yet awhile, the particular hilltop on which she stood was bathed
in sunlight.
Above all else, despite her complete trust in Power, she thrilled with
the consciousness that her love contained a delicious spice of fear, and
that is why she climbed the Forty Steps in a sort of panic; so that he
marveled at her change of mood, and discovered in it only one more of
the enchantments with which his fancy clothed her.
The driver regarded them as a moonstruck couple, since that sort of moon
shines ever on fine evenings by the sea. He was obviously surprised when
the lady's address was given, because he expected a return journey to
one of Newport's many boarding-houses; but any suspicions he may have
entertained were dispelled when he witnessed a polite farewell in the
presence of a pompous butler, and heard Nancy say:
"I am going straight to my room now to write that letter to my father.
Then I shall finish packing. What time is the train--nine o'clock.
Goodnight, Derry! Sleep well!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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