She got up and looked at him shyly, with color in her face and her eyes shining.
"And until you make good, you mean to leave me out? Will it cost you nothing, Jim?"
"It will cost me much," he said, grimly. "More than I durst reckon, but I must brace up and pay."
"But suppose I will not let you leave me out? Am I to give nothing?" Evelyn asked. "Besides, it's my right to choose, and you meant to rob me of my right. If I didn't know you well, I should be angry. Langrigg is yours; but if you had nothing, do you think I'd keep our extravagance at Whitelees and let you go?" She turned her head and then looked up, stretching out her hands. "I can't let you go! I want to help."
Jim took her hands and next moment she was in his arms. Then there were steps in the passage and she gently pushed him back.
"You must tell nobody just yet," she said.
The others came in and Mordaunt looked at Evelyn rather hard, but she went to the piano and opening a music-book, beckoned Dick.
"You know this," she said. "I'll play it for you."
On the morning after her interview with Jim, Evelyn sat in front of a writing-table by a window at Whitelees. She had meant to tell a friend about her lover, but now did not know if she would or not. For one thing, the morning was cold and dreary and she felt dull. Composition was difficult; the glowing phrases she had thought to use would not come. It was raining outside, the lawn was strewn with wet dead leaves, and the bare trees tossed their branches in the wind. Shallow pools spread about the terrace and the hills were blurred by mist. Winter had begun and Evelyn did not like winter in the country.
She put down her pen. Last night's thrill had gone and she was languid. When she had broken his reserve, Jim was the ardent and romantic lover she had thought; but she had been forced to break down his reserve and this carried a sting. For some hours she had been dazzled by the glamor of romance and had rejoiced in her rashness, but the light was getting dim. Things looked different in the morning.
Jim loved her and she was flattered by his exaggerated notion of her worth. She had meant to justify his confidence, but she knew this would be hard, because she knew herself. In a sense, Jim was not her kind, and by and by they might jar. She had self-control, but she was not patient. Moreover, it looked as if Jim were poor, and although she had some money she was not rich. Thrilled by keen excitement and half-consciously acting, she had told him that poverty did not daunt her, but when she came to think, it would be hard to go without the expensive refinements she enjoyed.
