He
was not smiling now, as he had been in speaking to Olive. "Will you come
somewhere apart, where I can speak to you alone?"
"Why have you done this? It was not right in you to come!" Verena looked
still as if she were blushing, but Ransom perceived he must allow for
her having been delicately scorched by the sun.
"I have come because it is necessary--because I have something very
important to say to you. A great number of things."
"The same things you said in New York? I don't want to hear them
again--they were horrible!"
"No, not the same--different ones. I want you to come out with me, away
from here."
"You always want me to come out! We can't go out here; we _are_ out, as
much as we can be!" Verena laughed. She tried to turn it off--feeling
that something really impended.
"Come down into the garden, and out beyond there--to the water, where we
can speak. It's what I have come for; it was not for what I told Miss
Olive!"
He had lowered his voice, as if Miss Olive might still hear them, and
there was something strangely grave--altogether solemn, indeed--in its
tone. Verena looked around her, at the splendid summer day, at the
much-swathed, formless figure of Miss Birdseye, holding her letter
inside her hat. "Mr. Ransom!" she articulated then, simply; and as her
eyes met his again they showed him a couple of tears.
"It's not to make you suffer, I honestly believe. I don't want to say
anything that will hurt you.
Pages:
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197