At that word, which indeed seemed to them quite wanton, Lord and Lady
Valleys turned on their son, and the three stood staring, perfectly
silent. A little noise from the doorway interrupted them.
CHAPTER XVIII
Left by her father and mother to the further entertainment of Harbinger,
Barbara had said:
"Let's have coffee in here," and passed into the withdrawing room.
Except for that one evening, when together by the sea wall they stood
contemplating the populace, she had not been alone with him since he
kissed her under the shelter of the box hedge. And now, after the first
moment, she looked at him calmly, though in her breast there was a
fluttering, as if an imprisoned bird were struggling ever so feebly
against that soft and solid cage. Her last jangled talk with Courtier
had left an ache in her heart. Besides, did she not know all that
Harbinger could give her?
Like a nymph pursued by a faun who held dominion over the groves, she,
fugitive, kept looking back. There was nothing in that fair wood of his
with which she was not familiar, no thicket she had not travelled, no
stream she had not crossed, no kiss she could not return. His was a
discovered land, in which, as of right, she would reign. She had nothing
to hope from him but power, and solid pleasure. Her eyes said: How am I
to know whether I shall not want more than you; feel suffocated in your
arms; be surfeited by all that you will bring me? Have I not already got
all that?
She knew, from his downcast gloomy face, how cruel she seemed, and was
sorry.
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