Twilight was stealing over the earth. A gentle breeze came up from the south, laden with the scents of late summer. Peter was bringing The Prince back for an opinion of the colt's performance.
"You have done well with him, Peter," said Julia. "I shall tell father how nicely you ride him, and of his remarkable speed. He will be pleased. Good-bye. Take good care of him."
Glenning felt that he should add a word, but somehow it wouldn't come. Julia's voice had sounded unfamiliar to his ears. He had been keenly conscious of the swift change in her after the horse had passed. He had seen her start to speak, then close her lips, and he had wondered what the unuttered words could have been. Then he grew troubled as he stood silently by her side, watching her averted face. A shadow had fallen upon it, blotting out the bright expression of joy. He saw it change as a sun-kissed landscape might when a cloud veils the sun. Her sweet mouth had relaxed into a pathetic little droop; the rich undercolour had receded from her cheeks; her eyes had shaped themselves to a look of weary sadness. Even her rounded, pliant figure seemed to lose part of its grace, and to sag of its own weight. He saw the breeze lifting the little curls upon her neck and ruffling the waving hair behind her ears. Then suddenly that which had been slumbering in him woke. It woke with a thrust like a keen knife-blade, sending a sharp quiver of pain throughout his body. Up, up it fought its way, ruthlessly tearing a path for its progress, and a voice spoke in his soul. It was his conscience which he had numbed, and smothered, and choked, free at last, and with a merciless goad in its hand. He saw how wrong he had been. He saw that, physically brave as he knew himself to be, morally he had been a coward! He had let her suffer--her, whom he told himself he loved! He had weakly remained negative, drifting with the days, when a positive course was the only one consistent with honour. He had shielded his own feelings, and sacrificed hers. He had dwelt in guilty security, and had stretched her, sinless, upon the altar! How sordid, and cruel, and selfish he had been! How he would have condemned this policy in anyone else!