Lilian might have taken refuge somewhere in the fields. It seemed a
wild unlikelihood, but he durst not give up hope. Though his desire
was to reach the waterside as quickly as possible, he searched on
either hand as he went by the path, and once or twice he called in a
loud voice "Lilian!" The night was darker now than when Mrs. Wade
had passed through the neighbouring field; clouds had begun to
spread, and only northwards was there a space of starry brilliance.
He came in sight of the trees along the bank, and proceeded at a
quicker step, again calling Lilian's name more loudly. Only the
soughing wind replied to him.
The nearest part of the water was that where it was deepest, where
the high bank had a railing; the spot where Mrs. Wade and Lilian had
stood together on their first friendly walk. Denzil went near,
leaned across the rail, and looked down into featureless gloom. Not
a sound beneath.
He walked hither and thither, often calling and standing still to
listen. The whole sky was now obscured, and the wind grew keener.
Afraid of losing himself, he returned to the high bank and there
waited, his eyes fixed in the direction whence the boat must come.
The row along the river Bale from Polterham would take more than an
hour.
As he stood sunk in desperate thoughts, a hand touched him. He
turned round, exclaiming "Lilian!"
"It is I," answered Mrs.
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