'No, indeed, why should I, but you may as well spare me one strawberry.'
'Certainly not,' says she, 'this is my last one' (gradually raising it to her lips), 'not unless you say, you thought of me, all the time.'
'Oh, well, if you must! I thought of no one but you, I saw you in every one I met, even the gardener.'
'That's rude,' she says, 'but you may as well have this,' extending to him the coveted strawberry, with an adorable smile.
'What a silly child you are,' is all the thanks she gets.
But some one has driven up, in a very old fly, to the front door and Mrs Dalrymple is watching to see who it is.
'Chubby,' she exclaims as a man gets out clothed in an extraordinary check suit. 'No one else could have clothes like that.' There is no doubt about its being Lord Helmdon, he has caught sight of them and is coming towards them, looking decidedly hot and dusty.
'Do look at him,' says Paul, though there is absolutely no need, as they are all gazing at him.
'Hullo,' says Jimmy, 'who would have thought of seeing you here!'
'Eh! what,' is the inevitable answer.
'Dear Mrs Dalrymple,' he goes on, shaking her vigourously by the hand, 'I am stopping not far from here,--I thought you would not mind my coming over to see you, what!'
'She didn't say a word,' says Jimmy still reclining in the armchair, 'you didn't give her time.'
Mabel shakes with suppressed laughter, and Lippa's mouth is contorted into the most extraordinary shape, but she says calmly, 'I'm so glad to see you, won't you stop the night now you are here?'
'I'm afraid I can't, ah, how do you do?' he says to Mabel, 'well, Paul, pretty fit, eh?'
'Decidedly so,' replies he.
Clotilde has been sitting quite silent longing to get away, but Paul will not look at her, and, oh! what shall she do, Philippa is introducing her to the newcomer.
'Chubby allow me to introduce you to Paul's wife.'
'What!' he exclaims.
Jimmy who is in fear and trembling as to what he may say, kicks him violently on the shins under cover of the tablecloth, which sends him sprawling on his knees before Clotilde.
'I--er, I beg your pardon,' he says, 'but really, Jimmy, I wish you would keep your legs to yourself.'
'Me,' says Dalrymple, regardless of grammar and looking quite unconscious, 'never was further from doing anything else, in my life.'
'May you be forgiven,' whispers Lippa, who has observed it all--but aloud she says, 'Won't you have some tea.'
'No thanks, really not,' replies Helmdon, 'but if I may stay, we may as well tell the fly to go away.'
'Do,' says Dalrymple rising, 'have you got anything with you,' and together they go back to the house, where Jimmy explains all, including Clotilde, and the kick.
'Thanks, awfully, old man,' says Helmdon, 'I couldn't make it out a bit, what!'
The evening is lovely, and two and two they gradually leave the drawing-room, to Chubby, who, his body in one chair, and his legs in another, is wrapt in peaceful slumbers. Mabel and her husband walk slowly up and down, before the house discussing their children and friends.
Quite unconsciously Paul and Clotilde take their way to the little church, and pause not till they come to their baby's grave. The moon shines down on them, as side by side they stand on the edge of the cliff, the dark ocean stretching out before them, a type of the unknown future that will be theirs.
Paul becomes aware that she is crying, and says, turning her face up to his. 'My darling, dry your eyes, we have all done wrong, but it is no use dwelling on the past, a future lies before us, in which by God's help, we will try to atone for the past, "Heaven means crowned not vanquished when it says forgiven."' For all answer Clotilde goes close to him, and lays her sad weary head against his shoulder.
'Paul,' she murmurs, 'how good you are,' and then there is a silence more eloquent than words.
In the meantime Jimmy and Philippa hand in hand have reached a cornfield.
'Let us stop here,' she says seating herself on a stile.
'Very well,' he replies, following her example, 'only we must not stay out too late you know.'
'No, we won't,' says Lippa, 'but Jimmy, dear, don't you feel awfully happy, because I do.'
'Sitting on this stile,' queries he.
'No, of course not, don't be stupid, but,' and she puts her arm round his neck, 'everybody is all right, are they not? Mabel has her child back, Paul has Clotilde, and oh, Jimmy darling, I've got you.'
There is a little sob as she says this.
'Crying,' says he, placing his arm round her, 'if you cry when you're happy, what will you do, when there is really something to cry for, oh you silly child,' but the look in his eyes belies his words, and Lippa raising hers sees something in them, which makes her draw still closer, till their lips meet.
'Dearest,' he whispers.
And then a silence also falls on them, while the calm moon, unmoved at what she sees, still shines on the same, and the distant ripple of the waves breaking on the shore is all that is heard.
THE END