And
don't let anything make you so, either.'
'I won't, papa,' she cried, with a serene brightness that pleased
him.
Certainly Mr. Swancourt must have been far from thinking that the
brightness came from an exhilarating intention to hold back no
longer from the mad action she had planned.
In the evening he drove away towards Stratleigh, quite alone. It
was an unusual course for him. At the door Elfride had been again
almost impelled by her feelings to pour out all.
'Why are you going to Stratleigh, papa?' she said, and looked at
him longingly.
'I will tell you to-morrow when I come back,' he said cheerily;
'not before then, Elfride. Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not
know, and so far will I trust thee, gentle Elfride.'
She was repressed and hurt.
'I will tell you my errand to Plymouth, too, when I come back,'
she murmured.
He went away. His jocularity made her intention seem the lighter,
as his indifference made her more resolved to do as she liked.
It was a familiar September sunset, dark-blue fragments of cloud
upon an orange-yellow sky. These sunsets used to tempt her to
walk towards them, as any beautiful thing tempts a near approach.
She went through the field to the privet hedge, clambered into the
middle of it, and reclined upon the thick boughs. After looking
westward for a considerable time, she blamed herself for not
looking eastward to where Stephen was, and turned round.
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