The words fell from the softened voice like noble music.
There was a pause. Then Catherine raised her eye's to his. They swam in tears, and yet the unspoken thanks in them were radiance itself. It seemed to him as though she came closer to him, like a child to an elder who has soothed and satisfied an inward smart.
They walked on in silence. They were just nearing the swollen river which roared below them. On the opposite bank two umbrellas were vanishing through the field gate into the road, but the vicar had turned and was waiting for them. They could see his becloaked figure leaning on his stick, through the light wreaths of mist that floated above the tumbling stream. The abnormally heavy rain had ceased, but the clouds seemed to be dragging along the very floor of the valley.
The stepping-stones came into sight. He leaped on the first and held out his hand to her. When they started she would have refused his help with scorn. Now, after a moment's hesitation she yielded, and he felt her dear weight on him as he guided her carefully from stone to stone' In reality it is both difficult and risky to be helped over stepping-stones. You had much better manage for yourself; and half way through, Catherine had a mind to tell him so. But the words died on her lips, which smiled instead. He could have wished that passage from stone to stone could have lasted forever. She was wrapped up grotesquely in his mackintosh; her hat was all bedraggled; her gloves dripped in his; and in spite of all he could have vowed that anything so lovely as that delicately cut, gravely smiling face, swaying above the rushing brown water, was never seen in Westmoreland wilds before.
'It is clearing,' he cried, with ready optimism, as they reached the bank. 'We shall get our picnic to-morrow after all--we _must_ get it! Promise me it shall be fine--and you will be there!'
The vicar was only fifty yards away, waiting for them against the field gate. But Robert held her eagerly, imperiously--and it seemed to her, her hold was still dizzy with the water.
'Promise!' he repeated, his voice dropping.
She could not stop to think of the absurdity of promising for Westmoreland weather. She could only say faintly 'Yes!' and so release her hand.