‘It was not my wraith, then? I almost thought it was.’
‘No, only gauze, crockery, and pink blossom—a sample of earthly illusions.’
‘I wonder you have time for such illusions, occupied as your mind must be.’
‘So do I. But I find in myself, Lina, two natures: one for the world and business, and one for home and leisure. Gérard Moore is a hard dog, brought up to mill and market; the person you call your cousin Robert is sometimes a dreamer, who lives elsewhere than in cloth hall and counting-house.’
‘Your two natures agree with you. I think you are looking in good spirits and health. You have quite lost that harassed air which it often pained one to see in your face a few months ago.’
‘Do you observe that? Certainly I am disentangled of some difficulties; I have got clear of some shoals, and have more sea-room.’
‘And, with a fair wind, you may now hope to make a prosperous voyage?’
‘I may hope it, yes; but hope is deceptive. There is no controlling wind or wave: gusts and swells perpetually trouble the mariner’s course. He dare not dismiss from his mind the expectation of tempest.’
‘But you are ready for a breeze—you are a good seaman, an able commander. You are a skilful pilot, Robert: you will weather the storm.’
‘My kinswoman always thinks the best of me. But I will take her words for a propitious omen. I will consider that, in meeting her to-night I have met with one of those birds whose appearance is to the sailor the harbinger of good luck.’
‘A poor harbinger of good luck is she who can do nothing, who has no power. I feel my incapacity. It is of no use saying I have the will to serve you when I cannot prove it, yet I have that will. I wish you success; I wish you high fortune and true happiness.’
‘When did you ever wish me anything else? What is Fanny waiting for?—I told her to walk on. Oh! we have reached the churchyard. Then we are to part here, I suppose. We might have sat a few minutes in the church porch if the girl had not been with us. It is so fine a night, so summer-mild and still, I have no particular wish to return yet to the Hollow.’
‘But we cannot sit in the porch now, Robert.
Caroline said this because Moore was turning her round towards it.
‘Perhaps not. But tell Fanny to go in: say we are coming. A few minutes will make no difference.’
The church clock struck ten.
‘My uncle will be coming out to take his usual sentinel round, and he always surveys the church and churchyard.’
‘And if he does? If it were not for Fanny, who knows we are here, I should find pleasure in dodging and eluding him. We could be under the east window when he is at the porch; as he came round to the north side we could wheel off to the south. We might at a pinch hide behind some of the monuments. That tall erection of the Wynnes’ would screen us completely.’
‘Robert, what good spirits you have! Go! go!’ added Caroline hastily. ‘I hear the front door—’
‘I don’t want to go. On the contrary, I want to stay.’