Everywhere there was a noise of birds nestling amongst the leaves, of invisible streams running through the grass, of branches mysteriously cracking, and, always, in the distance some one seemed to be chopping with an axe.If you pushed a window open multitudes of little insects fell in showers about you.All the roses were eaten with green flies.
"What a place!" said Maggie; nevertheless it was rather agreeable after the sand of Skeaton.
During the first three days they preserved their attitude of friendly distance.On the fourth evening Maggie desperately flung down her challenge.They were sitting, after supper, in the wild deserted garden.It was a wonderful evening, faintly blue and dim crocus with flickering silver stars.The last birds twittered in the woods; the green arc of the hill against the evening sky had a great majesty of repose and rest."Now, Paul!" said Maggie.
"What is it, dear?" but he slowly changed colour and looked away from her, out into the wood.
"We've got to face it some time," she said."The sooner, then, the better--""Face what?" he asked, dropping his voice as though he were afraid that some one would overhear.
"You and me." Maggie gathered her resources together."Before we were married we were great friends.You were the greatest friend Iever had except Uncle Mathew.And now I don't know what we are.""Whose fault is that?" he asked huskily."You know what the matter is.You don't love me.You never have...Have you?" He suddenly ended, turning towards her.
She saw his new eagerness and she was frightened, but she looked at a little bunch of stars that twinkled at her above the dark elms and took courage.
"I'm very bad at explaining my feelings," she said."And you're not very good either, Paul.I know I am very fond of you, and I feel as though it ought to be so simple if I were wiser or kinder.I've been thinking for weeks about this, and I want to say that I'm ready to do anything that will make you happy.""You'll love me?" he asked.