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There was no backing, no rearing, or vagary of any sort now; the mare started on her journey; broke into a canter; broke into a gallop; then, silken mane and tail flying, thundered back at a terrific speed along the path marked out by her own dainty hoofs, and the relentless feet of that hound, Fate. Damaris turned in the saddle and looked behind, and then to her right and then to her left.
She was self-forgetful, self-possessed, the exalted touch of a pure devotion upon her. "I have been with my brother Charles," she began, addressing them both. "I happened to see Hordle coming from the library and I put off dinner. I thought, darling" this to Damaris, with a becoming hint of deference "I might do so. I gathered that Charles that your father wished it. He has not been feeling well."
The rolling of the drum stopped short, and Damaris came to herself with a start as she stood under the moon, then clasped her hands upon her thudding heart as she watched a man with two great shaggy dogs walk across the terrace towards her.
But save this indirect admission of the immaterial and grotesque, everything showed reassuringly ordinary, the woman herself unconcerned, ignorant of disturbance. Damaris rose from her kneeling posture upon the window-seat and, standing, lowered the sash. Once was enough. It was no longer incumbent upon her to listen or to look.
"And yet, dear Martin, you lived with her on on our island?" "Aye, I did to my torment, and prayed God I might not slay her." And here in breathless fashion I told my lady of Joanna's coming and of the ills that followed; but seeing the growing trouble in her look, my arms fell from her and great bitterness filled me. "Ah, God in heaven, Damaris!" I cried, "never say you doubt my word " "Martin!"
So it came about that once again, as Mary and her satellite Laura silently waited at table, and as Theresa very audibly gobbled food in and words out, Damaris shrank within herself seeming to hear a shrill sweet whistling and the shatter of loose pebbles and shifting shingle under Faircloth's pursuing feet.
"They were young," he had said, "and mayn't we allow they were beautiful? They met and, God help them, they loved." The statement covered this case, also, to a nicety. It explained everything. But what an explanation, leaving her, Damaris, doubly orphaned and desolate!
"Well, all I can say is that I'm infernally sorry that Miss Hethencourt has been made the butt of gossip and scandal through a cad's behaviour, and I think that you and I ought to be shot for discussing her and her very intimate affairs. If " Damaris waited to hear no more.
"A gargle, miss," broke in the maid. "I think it's just fun on the part of Miss Damaris, because nothing as solid as him," pointing of comb to shamed dog "could go as anything watery." Damaris got to her feet. "Let's go in to Marraine," she choked. "Gargoyle, my dear," she whispered, "is what she meant gargoyle. Do come along!"
This was selfish, self-indulgent, lacking in consideration and reverence towards you, towards your peace of mind, your innocence. And for it, my darling, I beg your forgiveness." Damaris sat up in the bed, raised her face to be kissed. "No no," she implored him, "don't say that.
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