A Pair of Blue Eyes. Thomas Hardy

his. One sensation pervaded her to distraction. Stephen, her handsome youth and darling, was going away, and she might never see him again except in secret and in sadness – perhaps never more. At any rate, she could no longer wait till the morning to hear the result of the interview, as she had intended. She flung her dressing-gown round her, tapped lightly at his door, and whispered ‘Stephen!’ He came instantly, opened the door, and stepped out.

      ‘Tell me; are we to hope?’

      He replied in a disturbed whisper, and a tear approached its outlet, though none fell.

      ‘I am not to think of such a preposterous thing – that’s what he said. And I am going to-morrow. I should have called you up to bid you good-bye.’

      ‘But he didn’t say you were to go – O Stephen, he didn’t say that?’

      ‘No; not in words. But I cannot stay.’

      ‘Oh, don’t, don’t go! Do come and let us talk. Let us come down to the drawing-room for a few minutes; he will hear us here.’

      She preceded him down the staircase with the taper light in her hand, looking unnaturally tall and thin in the long dove-coloured dressing-gown she wore. She did not stop to think of the propriety or otherwise of this midnight interview under such circumstances. She thought that the tragedy of her life was beginning, and, for the first time almost, felt that her existence might have a grave side, the shade of which enveloped and rendered invisible the delicate gradations of custom and punctilio. Elfride softly opened the drawing-room door and they both went in. When she had placed the candle on the table, he enclosed her with his arms, dried her eyes with his handkerchief, and kissed their lids.

      ‘Stephen, it is over – happy love is over; and there is no more sunshine now!’

      ‘I will make a fortune, and come to you, and have you. Yes, I will!’

      ‘Papa will never hear of it – never – never! You don’t know him. I do. He is either biassed in favour of a thing, or prejudiced against it. Argument is powerless against either feeling.’