Very sweet and tender and beautiful Stephen looked at this moment. The
strong lines of her face were softened by the dark fire in her eyes and
the feeling which glowed in the deep blushes which mantled her cheeks. The proudness of her bearing was no less marked than ever, but in the
willowy sway of her body there was a yielding of mere sorry pride. In
all the many moods which the gods allow to good women there is none so
dear or so alluring, consciously as well as instinctively, to true men as
this self-surrender. As Leonard drew near, Stephen sank softly into a
seat, doing so with a guilty feeling of acting a part. When he actually
came into the grove he found her seemingly lost in a reverie as she gazed
out over the wide expanse in front of her. He was hot after his walk,
and with something very like petulance threw himself into a cane
armchair, exclaiming as he did so with the easy insolence of old
familiarity:

'What a girl you are, Stephen! dragging a fellow all the way up here. Couldn't you have fixed it down below somewhere if you wanted to see me?' Strangely enough, as it seemed to her, Stephen did not dislike his tone
of mastery. There was something in it which satisfied her. The
unconscious recognition of his manhood, as opposed to her womanhood,
soothed her in a peaceful way. It was easy to yield to a dominant man. She was never more womanly than when she answered him softly:

'It was rather unfair; but I thought you would not mind coming so far. It
is so cool and delightful here; and we can talk without being disturbed.' Leonard was lying back in his chair fanning himself with his wide-brimmed
straw hat, with outstretched legs wide apart and resting on the back of
his heels. He replied with grudging condescension:

'Yes, it's cool enough after the hot tramp over the fields and through
the wood. It's not so good as the house, though, in one way: a man can't
get a drink here. I say, Stephen, it wouldn't be half bad if there were
a shanty put up here like those at the Grands Mulets or on the
Matterhorn. There could be a tap laid on where a fellow could quench his
thirst on a day like this!' Before Stephen's eyes floated a momentary vision of a romantic chalet
with wide verandah and big windows looking over the landscape; a great
wide stone hearth; quaint furniture made from the gnarled branches of
trees; skins on the floor; and the walls adorned with antlers, great
horns, and various trophies of the chase. And amongst them Leonard, in a
picturesque suit, lolling back just as at present and smiling with a
loving look in his eyes as she handed him a great blue-and-white Munich
beer mug topped with cool foam. There was a soft mystery in her voice as
she answered:

'Perhaps, Leonard, there will some day be such a place here!' He seemed
to grumble as he replied:

'I wish it was here now. Some day seems a long way off!' This seemed a good opening for Stephen; for the fear of the situation was
again beginning to assail her, and she felt that if she did not enter on
her task at once, its difficulty might overwhelm her. She felt angry
with herself that there was a change in her voice as she said:

'Some day may mean--can mean everything. Things needn't be a longer way
off than we choose ourselves, sometimes!' 'I say, that's a good one! Do you mean to say that because I am some day
to own Brindehow I can do as I like with it at once, whilst the
governor's all there, and a better life than I am any day? Unless you
want me to shoot the old man by accident when we go out on the First.' He
laughed a short, unmeaning masculine laugh which jarred somewhat on her. She did not, however, mean to be diverted from her main purpose, so she
went on quickly:

'You know quite well, Leonard, that I don't mean anything of the kind. But there was something I wanted to say to you, and I wished that we
should be alone. Can you not guess what it is?' 'No, I'll be hanged if I can!' was his response, lazily given. Despite her resolution she turned her head; she could not meet his eyes. It cut her with a sharp pain to notice when she turned again that he was
not looking at her. He continued fanning himself with his hat as he
gazed out at the view. She felt that the critical moment of her life had
come, that it was now or never as to her fulfilling her settled
intention. So with a rush she went on her way:

'Leonard, you and I have been friends a long time. You know my views on
some points, and that I think a woman should be as free to act as a man!' She paused; words and ideas did not seem to flow with the readiness she
expected. Leonard's arrogant assurance completed the dragging her back
to earth which her own self-consciousness began:

'Drive on, old girl! I know you're a crank from Crankville on some
subjects. Let us have it for all you're worth. I'm on the grass and
listening.' Stephen paused. 'A crank from Crankville!' --this after her nights of
sleepless anxiety; after the making of the resolution which had cost her
so much, and which was now actually in process of realisation. Was it
all worth so much? why not abandon it now? . . . Abandon it! Abandon a
resolution! All the obstinacy of her nature--she classed it herself as
firmness--rose in revolt. She shook her head angrily, pulled herself
together, and went on:

'That may be! though it's not what I call myself, or what I am usually
called, so far as I know. At any rate my convictions are honest, and I
am sure you will respect them as such, even if you do not share them.' She did not see the ready response in his face which she expected, and so
hurried on:

'It has always seemed to me that a--when a woman has to speak to a man
she should do so as frankly as she would like him to speak to her, and as
freely. Leonard, I--I,' as she halted, a sudden idea, winged with
possibilities of rescuing procrastination came to her. She went on more
easily:

'I know you are in trouble about money matters. Why not let me help
you?' He sat up and looked at her and said genially:

'Well, Stephen, you are a good old sort! No mistake about it. Do you
mean to say you would help me to pay my debts, when the governor has
refused to do so any more?' 'It would be a great pleasure to me, Leonard, to do anything for your
good or your pleasure.' There was a long pause; they both sat looking down at the ground. The
woman's heart beat loud; she feared that the man must hear it. She was
consumed with anxiety, and with a desolating wish to be relieved from the
strain of saying more. Surely, surely Leonard could not be so blind as
not to see the state of things! . . . He would surely seize the occasion;
throw aside his diffidence and relieve her! . . . His words made a
momentary music in her ears as he spoke:

'And is this what you asked me to come here for?' The words filled her with a great shame. She felt herself a dilemma. It
had been no part of her purpose to allude his debts.