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But when； throwing one arm round her waist； he sought to kiss
her lips； not like a lover indeed； not because he wanted to
do so； but as a desperate man who puts his fortunes to the
touch； she drew away from him； with a knot in her forehead；
backed and shied about fiercely with her head； and pushed him
from her with her hand。 Then there was no room left for
doubt； and Dick saw； as clear as sunlight； that she had a
distaste or nourished a grudge against him。
'Then you don't love me？' he said； drawing back from her； he
also； as though her touch had burnt him； and then； as she
made no answer； he repeated with another intonation；
imperious and yet still pathetic； 'You don't love me； DO you；
DO you？'
'I don't know；' she replied。 'Why do you ask me？ Oh； how
should I know？ It has all been lies together … lies； and
lies； and lies！'
He cried her name sharply； like a man who has taken a
physical hurt； and that was the last word that either of them
spoke until they reached Thymebury Junction。
This was a station isolated in the midst of moorlands； yet
lying on the great up line to London。 The nearest town；
Thymebury itself； was seven miles distant along the branch
they call the Vale of Thyme Railway。 It was now nearly half
an hour past noon； the down train had just gone by； and there
would be no more traffic at the junction until half…past
three； when the local train comes in to meet the up express
at a quarter before four。 The stationmaster had already gone
off to his garden； which was half a mile away in a hollow of
the moor； a porter； who was just leaving； took charge of the
phaeton； and promised to return it before night to Naseby
House； only a deaf； snuffy； and stern old man remained to
play propriety for Dick and Esther。
Before the phaeton had driven off； the girl had entered the
station and seated herself upon a bench。 The endless； empty
moorlands stretched before her； entirely unenclosed； and with
no boundary but the horizon。 Two lines of rails； a waggon
shed； and a few telegraph posts； alone diversified the
outlook。 As for sounds； the silence was unbroken save by the
chant of the telegraph wires and the crying of the plovers on
the waste。 With the approach of midday the wind had more and
more fallen； it was now sweltering hot and the air trembled
in the sunshine。
Dick paused for an instant on the threshold of the platform。
Then； in two steps； he was by her side and speaking almost
with a sob。
'Esther；' he said； 'have pity on me。 What have I done？ Can
you not forgive me？ Esther； you loved me once … can you not
love me still？'
'How can I tell you？ How am I to know？' she answered。 'You
are all a lie to me … all a lie from first to last。 You were
laughing at my folly； playing with me like a child； at the
very time when you declared you loved me。 Which was true？
was any of it true？ or was it all； all a mockery？ I am weary
trying to find out。 And you say I loved you； I loved my
father's friend。 I never loved； I never heard of； you； until
that man came home and I began to find myself deceived。 Give
me back my father； be what you were before； and you may talk
of love indeed！'
'Then you cannot forgive me … cannot？' he asked。
'I have nothing to forgive；' she answered。 'You do not
understand。'
'Is that your last word； Esther？' said he； very white； and
biting his lip to keep it still。
'Yes； that is my last word；' replied she。
'Then we are here on false pretences； and we stay here no
longer；' he said。 'Had you still loved me； right or wrong； I
should have taken you away； because then I could have made
you happy。 But as it is … I must speak plainly … what you
propose is degrading to you； and an insult to me； and a rank
unkindness to your father。 Your father may be this or that；
but you should use him like a fellow…creature。'
'What do you mean？' she flashed。 'I leave him my house and
all my money； it is more than he deserves。 I wonder you dare
speak to me about that man。 And besides； it is all he cares
for； let him take it； and let me never hear from him again。'
'I thought you romantic about fathers；' he said。
'Is that a taunt？' she demanded。
'No；' he replied； 'it is an argument。 No one can make you
like him； but don't disgrace him in his own eyes。 He is old；
Esther； old and broken down。 Even I am sorry for him； and he
has been the loss of all I cared for。 Write to your aunt；
when I see her answer you can leave quietly and naturally；
and I will take you to your aunt's door。 But in the meantime
you must go home。 You have no money； and so you are
helpless； and must do as I tell you； and believe me； Esther；
I do all for your good； and your good only； so God help me。'
She had put her hand into her pocket and withdrawn it empty。
'I counted upon you；' she wailed。
'You counted rightly then；' he retorted。 'I will not； to
please you for a moment； make both of us unhappy for our
lives； and since I cannot marry you； we have only been too
long away； and must go home at once。'
'Dick；' she cried suddenly； 'perhaps I might … perhaps in
time … perhaps … '
'There is no perhaps about the matter；' interrupted Dick。 'I
must go and bring the phaeton。' And with that he strode from
the station； all in a glow of passion and virtue。 Esther；
whose eyes had come alive and her cheeks flushed during these
last words； relapsed in a second into a state of
petrifaction。 She remained without motion during his
absence； and when he returned suffered herself to be put back
into the phaeton； and driven off on the return journey like
an idiot or a tired child。 Compared with what she was now；
her condition of the morning seemed positively natural。 She
sat white and cold and silent； and there was no speculation
in her eyes。 Poor Dick flailed and flailed at the pony； and
once tried to whistle； but his courage was going down； huge
clouds of despair gathered together in his soul； and from
time to time their darkness was divided by a piercing flash
of longing and regret。 He had lost his love … he had lost
his love for good。
The pony was tired； and the hills very long and steep； and
the air sultrier than ever； for now the breeze began to fail
entirely。 It seemed as if this miserable drive would never
be done； as if poor Dick would never be able to go away and
be comfortably wretched by himself； for all his desire was to
escape from her presence and the reproach of her averted
looks。 He had lost his love； he thought … he had lost his
love for good。
They were already not far from the cottage； when his heart
again faltered and he appealed to her once more； speaking low
and eagerly in broken phrases。
'I cannot live without your love；' he concluded。
'I do not understand what you mean；' she replied； and I
believe with perfect truth。
'Then；' said he； wounded to the quick； 'your a