362 The Real Charlotte. 



Francie leaned back, and realised that now she had no 

 one to look to but herself, and happiness and misery fought 

 within her till her hands trembled as she worked. 



Each knew that this was, to all intents and purposes, 

 their last meeting, and their consciousness was charged to 

 brimming with unexpressed farewell She talked of in- 

 different subjects ; of what Aldershot would be like, of what 

 Lismoyle would think of the new regiment, of the trouble 

 that he would have in packing his pictures^ parrying, with a 

 weakening hand, his efforts to make every subject personal; 

 and all the time the laburnum drooped in beautiful despair 

 above her, as if listening and grieving, and the cool-leaved 

 lilac sent its fragrance to mingle with her pain, and to stir 

 her to rebellion with the ecstasy of spring-time. The 

 minutes passed barrenly by, and, as has been said, the 

 silences became longer and more clinging, and the thoughts 

 that filled them made each successive subject more bare 

 and artificial. At last Hawkins got up, and walking to the 

 opening cut in the shrubs, stood, with his hands in his 

 pockets, looking out at the lake and the mountains. 

 Francie stitched on ; it seemed to her that if she stopped 

 she would lose her last hold upon herself; she felt as if her 

 work were a talisman to remind her of all the things that 

 she was in peril of forgetting. When, that night, she took 

 up the waistcoat again to work at it, she thought that her 

 heart's blood had gone into the red stitches. 



It was several minutes before Hawkins spoke. "Francie," 

 he said, turning round and speaking thickly, " are you 

 going to let me leave you in this — in this kind of way ? 

 Have you realised that when I go on Saturday it's most 

 likely — it's pretty certain, in fact — that we shall never see 

 each other again ? " 



** Yes, I have," she said, after a pause of a second or two. 

 She did not say that for a fortnight her soul had beaten it- 

 self against the thought, and that to hear it in words was as 

 much as her self-command could bear. 



" You seem to care a great deal ! " he said violently ; 

 " you're thinking of nothing but that infernal piece of work, 

 that I loathe the very sight of. Don't you think you could 

 do without it for five minutes, at all events ? " 



She let her hands drop into her lap, but made no other reply. 



