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Come Rack! Come Rope! by Robert Hugh Benson
page 72 of 526 (13%)

"My Robin," she said, "I have been thinking so much about you, and I
have feared sometimes--"

She stopped herself, and he looked for her to finish. She drew her hand
away and stood up.

"Oh! it is miserable!" she cried. "And all might have been so happy."

The tears suddenly filled her eyes so that they shone like flowers in
dew.

He stood up, too, and put his muddy arm about her shoulders. (She felt
so slight and slender.)

"It will be happy," he said. "What have you been fearing?"

She shook her head and the tears ran down.

"I cannot tell you yet.... Robin, what a holy man that travelling priest
must be, who said mass on Sunday."

The lad was bewildered at her swift changes of thought, for he did not
yet see the chain on which they hung. He strove to follow her.

"It seemed so to me too," he said. "I think I have never seen--"

"It seemed so to you too," she cried. "Why, what do you know of him?"

He was amazed at her vehemence. She had drawn herself clear of his arm
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