"So it has. It's terrible to like anyone so much." Her lips trembled. "And we're not going to waste any time apart. I shall just go and live with him, and we shall each do our own work. He teaches too, and he composes. Some day he'll be heard of, now that he has some one to believe in him. Do be glad. And won't it be lovely to be so near each other still? Next door, Terry! He is coming to see Father to-morrow, but I shall tell him to-night, only it had to be you first." Theresa was meditative. "It seems a mad notion." "Mad! It's perfect! To be so sure of each other, to feel so safe! Oh, Theresa, I'm ashamed of all the sillinesses I've done. Letting other men touch me, and fancying I liked them! But he knows. He knows everything. And I didn't have to tell him!" Theresa walked to the dressing-table and studied her face in the glass. "I wonder if Mr. Partiloe wanted me as much as that," she said. "I'm beginning to be rather sorry for him." CHAPTER XVII "There's snow on the hill-tops," said Clara. "Yes, I saw." "Did you have a cold drive?" "I wasn't cold." "My dear, your hands are like bits of ice. And your feet, too, I expect. Let me take your boots off for you." "No, no, please. I'll do it." "Very well. You sit there and toast your toes, and you shall have some nice hot tea in a minute." Edward Webb pattered down the stone passage, and put his head in at the door. "Theresa, come and look at the Blue Hill. It's wonderful in this light--wonderful." "Don't go, my dear. Leave her alone, Edward. The Blue Hill will be there to-morrow, and the child's cold." "Oh, mayn't I? Just for a minute!" She rose from the red-cushioned chair and Clara gave consent with a nod of the head and a flourish of the bread-knife. Issuing from the dark passage, she was confronted by the Blue Hill. Night was falling, and what little light there was seemed to be stealing into the mountain. She thought it had opened its arms and its breast like a great door, and the day was creeping into it. Only to the west, beyond the lake and out over the sea, there was a pale amber streak, refusing shelter, but slowly, as she watched, its colour faded, melted into the universal grey, and was gathered home with the rest. "I have often wondered what happened to the day," she said in a small voice. She thought there was a slight movement of the hill, as though, with the last light safely housed, it closed its doors and settled down to sleep. And the other hills folded their arms likewise, and slept. She heard their breathing, and then she became aware of the ceaseless running of the streams.