Rosamond, ahead with her husband,
kept up a more or less fitful conversation with him, but the pair behind
said little. Richard made no allusion to his letter of the morning
beyond a declaration of his gratitude to the whole party for falling in
with his plans. But the silence was somehow more suggestive of the great
subject waiting for expression than any exchange of words could have
been, out here in the open. Only once did the man's impatience to begin
overcome his resolution to await the fitting hour.
Turning in his saddle as Colonel fell momentarily behind, passing the
West Wood marshes, Richard allowed his eyes to rest upon horse and rider
with full intent to take in the picture they made.
"I haven't ventured to let myself find out just how you look," he said.
"The atmosphere seems to swim around you; I see you through a sort of
haze. Do you suppose there can be anything the matter with my eyesight?"
"I should think there must be," she replied demurely. "It seems a
serious symptom. Hadn't you better turn back?"
"While you go on? Not if I fall off my horse. I have a suspicion that
it's made up of a curious compound of feelings which I don't dare to
describe.
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