me. He had meant, he said, to tell no one, and had given a promise to
Mr. Gaskell to that effect; but I think that he could not bear to keep
such a matter in his own breast, and within the first week of his
return he made me his confidant. I remember, my dear Edward, the look
everything wore on that sad night when he first told me what afterwards
proved so terrible a secret. We had dined quite alone, and he had been
moody and depressed all the evening. It was a chilly night, with some
fret blowing up from the sea. The moon showed that blunted and deformed
appearance which she assumes a day or two past the full, and the
moisture in the air encircled her with a stormy-looking halo. We had
stepped out of the dining-room windows on to the little terrace looking
down towards Smedmore and Encombe. The glaucous shrubs that grow in
between the balusters were wet and dripping with the salt breath of the
sea, and we could hear the waves coming into the cove from the west.
After standing a minute I felt chill, and proposed that we should go
back to the billiard-room, where a fire was lit on all except the
warmest nights. "No," John said, "I want to tell you something, Sophy,"
and then we walked on to the old boat summer-house. There he told me
everything. I cannot describe to you my feelings of anguish and horror
when he told me of the appearance of the man. The interest of the tale
was so absorbing to me that I took no note of time, nor of the cold
night air, and it was only when it was all finished that I felt how
deadly chill it had become. "Let us go in, John," I said; "I am cold and
feel benumbed."

But youth is hopeful and strong, and in another week the impression had
faded from our minds, and we were enjoying the full glory of midsummer
weather, which I think only those know who have watched the blue sea
come rippling in at the foot of the white chalk cliffs of Dorset.