There was a darkness over his mind. The terrible knot of consciousness
that had persisted there like an obsession was broken, gone, his life
was dissolved in darkness over his limbs and his body. But there was a
point of anxiety in his heart now. He wanted her to come back. He
breathed lightly and regularly like an infant, that breathes
innocently, beyond the touch of responsibility.
She was coming back. He saw her drifting desultorily under the high
hedge, advancing towards him slowly. He did not move, he did not look
again. He was as if asleep, at peace, slumbering and utterly relaxed.
She came up and stood before him, hanging her head.
'See what a flower I found you,' she said, wistfully holding a piece of
purple-red bell-heather under his face. He saw the clump of coloured
bells, and the tree-like, tiny branch: also her hands, with their
over-fine, over-sensitive skin.
'Pretty!' he said, looking up at her with a smile, taking the flower.
Everything had become simple again, quite simple, the complexity gone
into nowhere. But he badly wanted to cry: except that he was weary and
bored by emotion.
Then a hot passion of tenderness for her filled his heart. He stood up
and looked into her face. It was new and oh, so delicate in its
luminous wonder and fear. He put his arms round her, and she hid her
face on his shoulder.
It was peace, just simple peace, as he stood folding her quietly there
on the open lane. It was peace at last. The old, detestable world of
tension had passed away at last, his soul was strong and at ease.
She looked up at him. The wonderful yellow light in her eyes now was
soft and yielded, they were at peace with each other. He kissed her,
softly, many, many times. A laugh came into her eyes.
'Did I abuse you?' she asked.
He smiled too, and took her hand, that was so soft and given.
'Never mind,' she said, 'it is all for the good.' He kissed her again,
softly, many times.
'Isn't it?' she said.
'Certainly,' he replied. 'Wait! I shall have my own back.' She laughed suddenly, with a wild catch in her voice, and flung her
arms around him.
'You are mine, my love, aren't you?' she cried straining him close.
'Yes,' he said, softly.
His voice was so soft and final, she went very still, as if under a
fate which had taken her. Yes, she acquiesced--but it was accomplished
without her acquiescence. He was kissing her quietly, repeatedly, with
a soft, still happiness that almost made her heart stop beating.