Nothing for it but to
creep in and go to bed; yet for a long while he sat unmoving, his feet
chilly in the dew, drunk on the memory of her lost, half-smiling face,
and the clinging grip of her burning fingers, pressing the cold key into
his hand.
5
He awoke feeling as if he had eaten heavily overnight, instead of having
eaten nothing. And far off, unreal, seemed yesterday's romance! Yet it
was a golden morning. Full spring had burst at last--in one night the
"goldie-cups," as the little boys called them, seemed to have made
the field their own, and from his window he could see apple blossoms
covering the orchard as with a rose and white quilt. He went down almost
dreading to see Megan; and yet, when not she but Mrs. Narracombe brought
in his breakfast, he felt vexed and disappointed. The woman's quick
eye and snaky neck seemed to have a new alacrity this morning. Had she
noticed?
"So you an' the moon went walkin' last night, Mr. Ashurst! Did ye have
your supper anywheres?"
Ashurst shook his head.
"We kept it for you, but I suppose you was too busy in your brain to
think o' such a thing as that?"
Was she mocking him, in that voice of hers, which still kept some Welsh
crispness against the invading burr of the West Country? If she knew!
And at that moment he thought: 'No, no; I'll clear out.
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