He turns and joins them. It is a delicious summer afternoon:
they take chairs under the big trees which shade this cool green spot.
Presently a crony joins Mr. Hayward--soon the elder pair are deep in the
_cause celebre_ of the day. Virginia and Mr. Vansittart have forgotten
that other people exist in the world--the topics of their conversation
are ordinary enough, but it is not from them that a subtle delight
steals through their veins. What they heed is the language of each
other's eyes. His say--"You fulfil my idea of perfect womanhood. I could
love you with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my strength. I
respect you with my purest feelings; I love you with my strongest
passions; I would to God I could shake off my doubts about marriage. But
I _know_ that if I married you, inexorable Destiny would no longer let
us love one another."
And her eyes reiterate one little sentence, "You are my lord, my master,
and I am your slave."
It was one of the very strongest cases of love at first sight. Such
cases are more common, however, than people affect to think.
"Come home and dine with us," says Mr. Hayward, as a distant clock
strikes seven.
"I'm afraid I have not time to dress," replies Philip Vansittart; "that
is if you dine at half past seven, as I have heard you say you do.
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