Bennett had such a tussle with his reflections and emotions--he was not far from calling them "the devil"--that he broke into a sweat, and to seek air and coolness for his eyes he made straight for the bank of the river. He had advanced only a few yards when he heard a voice singing:
_Bury me deeply when I am dead, With, a stone at my feet and a cross at my head; And bury me deep that I ne'er may return To the scene of my true love--the brown Scottish burn._
And he heard a splashing of water and, hiding behind the huge trunk of a beech, he looked and saw Annette swinging on the branch of a chestnut tree, her feet dangling to the water and kicking and splashing. She was naked. Her hair was wet and hung limp down to her shoulders. She was as happy as a bird.
Bennett stood rooted. His heart, his whole being melted, and turned away reflections, troubled emotions, all power of thought. He gazed and gazed, and knew that she was beautiful, swinging there under the great leaves of the chestnut. Curiously he thought that she was not so very unlike a boy. He was fascinated. Up and down she swung her branch, scrambled to her feet and dived. . . . The spell was broken. Bennett covered his face with his hands as he realised what he had done. From the extreme of heat he turned very cold and shivered. He found that he had let his heather and wild flowers fall, picked them up, and rushed away, blindly. He lost himself and wandered for a long time before he found again the grassy plot where they had lunched. At the same moment Minna and Basil Haslam returned. Fry, Mary, and Serge were sitting, and Annette was busy boiling the kettle for tea. Entirely oblivious of every one else Bennett went straight up to Annette and held out the wild flowers and heather.
"I brought you these," he said, without looking at her.
"The poor flowers are dead," replied Annette, "but the heather is lovely. Thank you."
Annette's hair was still down her back and wet. She caught him gazing at it.
"The woods," said Bennett, "are very beautiful."
Annette was really grateful to him for giving her the flowers. No one had ever done as much for her before. She said:
"If you like you can row me home in the little boat."
Bennett was filled with alarm and he gazed miserably at her. He longed to accept, but he was terrified. He was roused from his dilemma by Basil Haslam, who, overhearing Annette's remark, called out: