It seemed to her as a shadow-show without
sense or meaning, since the heart of Christmas was gone. Partly, too, no
doubt, it was the memory of a former Christmas, three years ago, when
she had begun to understand that Robin loved her. And he was with her
again; yet all that he had stood for, to her, was gone, and another
significance had taken its place. He was nearer to her heart, in one
manner, though utterly removed, in another. It was as when a friend was
dead: his familiar presence is gone; but now that one physical barrier
is vanished, his presence is there, closer than ever, though in another
fashion....
* * * * *
Robin had come in to sup. Captain Fortescue would fetch him about nine
o'clock, and the two were to ride for the coast before dawn.
The four sat quiet after supper, speaking in subdued voices, of hopes
for the future, when England should be besieged, indeed, by the
spiritual forces that were gathering overseas; but they slipped
gradually into talk of the past and of Derbyshire, and of rides they
remembered. Then, after a while, Anthony was called away; Mistress Alice
moved back to the table to see her needlework the better, and Robin and
Marjorie sat together by the fire.
* * * * *
He told her again of the journey from Rheims, of the inns where they
lodged, of the extraordinary care that was taken, even in that Catholic
land, that no rumour of the nature of the party should slip out, lest
some gossip precede them or even follow them to the coast of England.
Pages:
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199