The sense of lastingness was gone
from her and every moment with Harney would now be ringed with doubt.
The Mountain was turning purple against a fiery sunset from which it
seemed to be divided by a knife-edge of quivering light; and above
this wall of flame the whole sky was a pure pale green, like some cold
mountain lake in shadow. Charity lay gazing up at it, and watching for
the first white star....
Her eyes were still fixed on the upper reaches of the sky when she
became aware that a shadow had flitted across the glory-flooded room: it
must have been Harney passing the window against the sunset.... She half
raised herself, and then dropped back on her folded arms. The combs had
slipped from her hair, and it trailed in a rough dark rope across her
breast. She lay quite still, a sleepy smile on her lips, her indolent
lids half shut. There was a fumbling at the padlock and she called out:
"Have you slipped the chain?" The door opened, and Mr. Royall walked
into the room.
She started up, sitting back against the cushions, and they looked at
each other without speaking.
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