They spoke briefly, almost coldly. Lorraine hung the two wreaths over the head-piece of the cross and, kneeling, signed herself.
When she rose Jack replaced his cap, but said nothing. They stood side by side, looking out across the woods, where, behind a curtain of mist and rain, the single turret of the Château de Nesville was hidden.
She seemed restless and preoccupied, and he, answering aloud her unasked question, said, "I am going to search the forest to-day. I cannot bear to leave you, but it must be done, for your sake and for the sake of France."
She answered: "Yes, it must be done. I shall go with you."
"You cannot," he said; "there is danger in the forest."
"You are going?"
"Yes."
They said nothing more for a moment or two. He was thinking of Alixe and her love for Sir Thorald. Who would have thought it could have turned out so? He looked down at the river Lisse, where, under the trees of the bank, they had all sat that day--a day that already seemed legendary, so far, so far in the mist-hung landscape of the past. He seemed to hear Molly Hesketh's voice, soft, ironical, upbraiding Sir Thorald; he seemed to see them all there in the sunshine--Dorothy, Rickerl, Cecil, Betty Castlemaine--he even saw himself strolling up to them, gun under arm, while Sir Thorald waved his wine-cup and bantered him.
He looked at the river. The green row-boat lay on the bank, keel up, shattered by a shell; the trees were covered with yellow, seared foliage that dropped continually into the water; the river itself was a canal of mud. And, as he looked, a dead man, face under water, sped past, caught on something, drifted, spun giddily in an eddy, washed to and fro, then floated on under the trees.
"You will catch cold here in the rain," he said, abruptly.
"You also, Jack."
They walked a few steps towards the house, then stopped and looked at each other.
"You are drenched," he said; "you must go to your room and lie down."
"I will--if you wish," she answered.
He drew her rain-cloak around her, buttoned the cape and high collar, and settled the hood on her head. She looked up under her pointed hood.
"Do you care so much for me?" she asked, listlessly.
"Will you give me the right--always--forever?"
"Do you mean that--that you love me?"
"I have always loved you."
Still she looked up at him from the shadow of her hood.
"I love you, Lorraine."
One arm was around her now, and with the other hand he held both of hers.