"Quite," Celia replied, raising a face that was radiant. And at that moment she was happy indeed, suffused with a strange, sweet happiness which she did not understand. "I have got a splendid berth. But, of course, you know, or you wouldn't be here. Reggie told you."

"Yes," he said, glad to fall on Reggie as a subject for conversation.

"He's a strange young man, but he appears to be a good friend of yours."

"Oh, yes, he is. Yes; isn't he singular? I met him at the Museum. Oh, long, long ago--And yet it isn't so long, though it seems so," she added, musingly, and more to herself than to him. "Yes; isn't he quaint?"

"But he's got a good heart," said Derrick, with a smile. Then he felt he could bring the conversation back to themselves. "I am so glad you are happy. I got your address--I can see you are wondering how I got it--from another friend of yours, Mr. Clendon, a remarkably nice old gentleman who was extremely kind to me. Of course, I went to Brown's Buildings the day I arrived."

She blushed and her eyes were downcast for a moment. Why "of course"?

She pondered this, with a thrill of the heart.

"Tell me about yourself, what you've been doing," she said. "You won't think me curious? But, of course, I am interested----"

"Naturally, seeing that you saved me, set my feet on a new path," he said; and as he spoke, he seated himself on the bank beside her; but a little lower, so that he could look up into her face. "I've had rather a curious time, since we parted."

Then he told her, as briefly as he could, the story of his adventures.

And she listened--well, as Desdemona of old listened to Oth.e.l.lo; that is to say, her star-like eyes were fixed on his face, as if they were chained there, and she listened, sometimes her breath growing fast, sometimes with an exclamation of amazement, of fear. Her interest, her absorption were so intense that perhaps she was not conscious that imperceptibly he had drawn closer to her, so that his arm was touching her dress and his face was very near hers. Woman is never so charming to us men as when she is listening to the story of our lives; and, oh, what a sympathetic listener was this beautiful, dainty girl, with her wide-open eyes, her red, parted lips, her little sighs and murmured exclamations!

"Oh, it is wonderful!" she breathed at last. "It it like a story in a book! I can see it all--you tell it so well; and yet I feel you are not telling half. And this Donna Elvira--what a good, kind woman she must be!"

"She is," a.s.sented Derrick. "I wish she were also a happy one; but I'm afraid she isn't. There is a kind of mystery about her--but I'm afraid you won't understand from my poor attempt to describe her."

"Oh, yes, yes I do!" said Celia. "You make it all so plain. I should like to meet her, to know her."

"I'll tell her so--when I go back," said Derrick.

What had happened? A moment before, the little wood had been all aglow with the rays of the setting sun, her heart had been palpitating with a sweet, delicious happiness; and now, all quite suddenly, the air had become cold, a chill had struck to her heart. Celia's face paled, she looked up at him and then away from him. With the toe of her dainty shoe, she traced a pattern in the moss at her feet; and still with downcast eyes, she said:

"You--you are going back? Of course."

"Yes; I must go back," he said, in a dry voice. "As I told you, I have only come over to do this business. I must go back soon."

"How--how soon?" she asked, scarcely knowing that she spoke.

"Oh, in a week or two, at longest," he replied, his eyes downcast, his voice barely above a murmur.

There was silence for a moment; then she forced a smile and, with difficulty raising her eyes to his, said:

"Of course, you must. Well, I am--am glad to have seen you, to have heard that you are prospering. I--I must be going back."

Again she made a movement, as if to rise; but he took her hand and gripped it tightly, almost fiercely.

"Not yet," he said, his voice choked and thick. "You can't go till I tell you----Oh, don't you know? You must know; something of the truth must have travelled from my heart to yours all these months. Don't you know that I love you?" he said breathlessly.

She sat quite still, her hand in his, her eyes fixed on the tree before her; her heart was beating so fast that its pulsations seemed to stifle her. But through her whole frame, through every nerve of her body, ran a hot flood of ecstatic happiness. His words were still ringing in her heart; mutely her lips were re-forming them: "I love you! I love you!"

So great, so ineffable was the joy, that her eyes closed with the desire to shut out everything in the world but the one fact his dear lips had voiced.

"You know I love you," he said in a whisper. "From the first moment--no, let me be truthful, not from the first moment: you remember how angry I was with you; how I resented your dear presence, your interference?--but soon, very soon afterwards, you stole into my heart. And you have been there ever since. Oh, Celia!--think of it! I knew your name only a few hours ago--you are all the world to me, my saviour, my guardian angel. I can't live without you. I want you, dearest; I want you every hour, every moment. Oh, I know I'm a poor lot, of no account, a man with a stain still on his name, but I've got to tell you that I love you. I've thought of this hour of our meeting a hundred, a thousand times, in all sorts of places, in all sorts of circ.u.mstances. And now it has come!

Celia, I love you, dear, I love you! Speak to me, dear! Oh, I know I'm not worthy of a single thought, a single breath of yours; but let my love plead for me, and--speak to me, Celia!"

She sat enthralled by that magic which has been omnipotent since this weary world of ours began, and will be till it ends. It was easy enough for him to say "speak," but ah, how difficult it was for her to obey, when her heart was too full for words! Instead of speech, she turned her face to him; and laid her hand on his, which held hers nearest to him.

There was a thrill of a pa.s.sionate love in that gentle touch; and Derrick's heart flamed up. He caught her in his arms, and their lips joined in that first ecstatic interchange of soul and heart. Presently, she lay on his breast, her face still upturned to his kisses, her eyes meeting his with the fullness, the fearlessness of a girl's first and perfect love.

Silence reigned in the little wood; a squirrel, which had been watching them from a distance, leapt noiselessly from a branch and stood and surveyed them with piquant interest; the good G.o.d Pan hovered about them and murmured his blessings on their mortal love. So long lasted the silence--the ecstatic silence which, indeed, is golden--that time lost its significance and they were caught up into the heaven of eternity.

At last, with a sigh, Celia came back to earth: that earth which his love had turned to a veritable Paradise.

"I must go," she whispered.

"Must you, dearest--Celia?" he asked, with all a lover's reluctance.

"Yes," she said, the word broken with a sigh. "I am sorry; but I must go. I don't know how late it is."

He took the watch from her belt--the very act was a caress--and looked at it.

"We have been here an hour. It seems only a minute. And we must part!

That's hard."

"Yes, it's hard," she whispered, with a long breath. "But we shall meet again. Oh, I couldn't bear to think that we shall not meet again soon.

You will come--will you come to the Hall?"

He knit his brows.

"I can't, dearest; I can't. Don't ask me why. G.o.d knows I want to tell you everything; but--but presently. You can trust me, Celia?"

"I'd trust you with my life, with all that there is of me," she said, with a simplicity that made him catch her to him.

"You must trust me, for the present," he said. "Let me think things over. I can't think now--I can scarcely realise that you are in my arms, that you are mine. Mine! Mine, after all this time of waiting and longing. Tell me once more, just once more, that you love me, Celia."

"I love you!" she breathed, her star-like eyes meeting his unflinchingly. "Oh, how strange it is! I don't even know your name."

He winced imperceptibly, and his lips drew straight. They had almost formed the words "Derrick Dene," but he held them back.

"Sydney," he said. "Sydney Green."

"Sydney," she murmured; and though Derrick hated the name on her lips, yet it sounded the sweetest music.

"You'll meet me to-morrow here, in the morning, Celia? I could not wait all day. Be here at ten o'clock."

"I will."

"By that time, I shall have thought things over; I shall be able to tell you----Oh, dearest, must you go? You seem to take my life with you."

"And I leave mine with you," she said, gravely.

"Celia! You've got my life and my heart in this little hand of yours."

He kissed it.

"And do you think I shall not hold them? But I must go. Yes; kiss me once more--only once, or I shall never be able to leave you. I will be here at ten o'clock. It will seem an age----"