“So, from her sky-like spirit, gentleness Dropt ever like a sunlit fall of rain, And his beneath drank in the bright caress As thirstily as would a parched plain, That long hath watched the showers of sloping grey For ever, ever, falling far away.”--Lowell. |After Ralph had left, a more sombre hue stole over Evereld’s glowing sky. She began to think a little of the future, of the countless partings in store for them, and the more she thought the more silent and grave she became. “You look tired, my dear,” said Mrs. Hereford as they walked back from church. “Come in with me and rest. The others have set their hearts on a stroll by the sea, but you had a long walk this afternoon.” “Yes,” said Evereld, sitting down beside her hostess near the open window and looking out into the calm summer evening. “I wanted to tell you about our walk. And if ever you have time Ralph would so much like to talk to you too.” The words were said with an effort and Mrs. Hereford glanced at the sweet girlish face with its downcast eyes and understood in a moment what was coming. “You two are very old friends,” she said. “Bride told me that you had been brought up together and that a very nice German lady had done a great deal for you.” “Yes,” said Evereld, falling naturally into all the old memories. “I don’t know what we should have done without her. You see the Mactavishs never really cared for us. But she cared, and dear old Bridget and Geraghty the butler; and Ralph was just like my brother until the day Sir Matthew turned him out of the house. He failed you know in the exam, for the Indian Civil, and they had a quarrel and Ralph had to go. It was only in that dreadful time after he had gone that I understood how I cared for him.” “And had you not met him at all since then?” asked Mrs. Hereford. “Yes, we met once by accident in the Christmas holidays and then I thought, I fancied, that he cared a little. But he said nothing till to-day, and now we understand each other, only Ralph will not let me bind myself in any way; he had not meant to speak yet at all, he said, but oh, I am so glad he didn’t wait.” Mrs. Hereford took the girl’s hand in hers and stroked it silently. Her thoughts had flown back to a day in her own life when just such an understanding had been arrived at, she had been about the same age as Evereld, and looking back now she felt sad as she realised how much inevitable pain and suspense lay before this girl, what dire possibilities of misunderstanding, what weary hours of separation.