“I suppose so,” she agreed. Suddenly she looked up at him. “Bruce—remember the day we met? I can shut my eyes and see you so plain—the way you sat on your horse, and the look you gave me. It made me shiver inside—I’d never been looked at like that before. I remember the suit you had on—it was black velvet with gold braid—Oh, the most wonderful suit! And how handsome you looked! But you scared me a little bit too. You still do, I think—I wonder why?”
“I’m sure I can’t imagine.” He seemed amused, for she often brought up such remnants of the past, and she never forgot a detail.
“Oh, but just think!” They were crossing a shaky little wooden bridge now, Amber walking ahead, and suddenly she turned and looked up at him. “What if Aunt Sarah hadn’t sent me that day to take the gingerbread to the blacksmith’s wife! We’d never even have known each other! I’d still be in Marygreen!”
“No you wouldn’t. There’d have been other Cavaliers going through—you’d have left Marygreen whether you’d ever seen me or not.”
“Why Bruce Carlton! I would not! I went with you because it was fate—it was in the stars! Our lives are planned in heaven, and you know it!”
“No, I don’t know it, and you don’t either. You may think it, but you don’t feel it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” They were across the bridge, strolling along side by side again, and Ambers switched petulantly at the grass with a little twig she had picked up. Suddenly she flung it away and faced him squarely, her hands catching at his arms. “Don’t you think that we were meant for each other, Bruce? You
“What do you mean, ‘now’?”
“Why—after everything we’ve been through together. Why else did you stay and take care of me then? You could have gone away when you were well and left me alone—if you hadn’t loved me.”
“My God, Amber, you take me for a greater villain than I am. But of course I love you. And in a sense I agree with you that we were meant for each other.”
“In a sense? What do you mean by that?”
His arms went about her, the fingers of one hand combing through the long glossy mass of her hair, and his mouth came down close to hers. “This is what I mean,” he said softly. “You’re a beautiful woman—and I’m a man. Of course we were meant for each other.”
But, though she did not say anything more about it just then, that was not what she wanted to hear. When she had stayed with him in London, at the risk of her own life, she had not thought of or expected either gratitude or return. But when he had stayed with her, had cared for her as tenderly and devotedly as she had for him—she believed then that he had changed, and that now he would marry her. She had waited, with growing apprehension and misgiving, for him to speak of it—but he had said nothing.
Oh, but that’s not possible! she told herself again and again. If he loved me enough to do all that—he loves me enough to marry me. He thinks I know he will as soon as we’re where we can—that’s why he hasn’t said anything—He thinks I—
But not all her brave assurances could still the doubts and torment that grew more insistent with each day that passed. She began to realize that, after all, nothing had changed—he still intended to go on with his life just as he had planned it, as though there had never been a plague.
She wanted desperately to talk to him about it but, afraid of blighting the harmony there was between them—almost perfect for the first time since they had known each other—she forced herself to put it off and wait for some favourable opportunity.
Meanwhile the days were going swiftly. The holly had turned scarlet; loaded wagons stood in the orchards, and the air was fragrant with the fresh autumn smell of ripe red apples. Once or twice it rained.
They left the boat at Abingdon and stayed overnight in a quiet old inn. The host and hostess finally accepted their certificates-of-health, but with obvious misgivings and only because Bruce gave them five extra guineas—though their money supply was now almost gone. But the next morning they hired horses and a guide and set out for Almsbury’s country home, some sixty miles away. They followed the main road to Gloucester, spent the night there and went on the next day. When they reached Barberry Hill in mid-morning Amber was thoroughly exhausted.
Almsbury came out of the house with a yell. He swung her up off her feet and kissed her and pounded Bruce on the back, telling them all the while how he had tried to find them both—never guessing that they were together—how scared he had been, and how glad he was to have them there with him, alive and well. Emily seemed just as pleased, though considerably less exuberant, and they went inside together.
