The next morning broke grey and sombre over Aylingford, yet Barbara woke
to find the world brighter and more interesting than she had found it
for a long time; perhaps it had never been quite so bright before. And
yet there were clouds in it, wreaths of doubt which would not clear
away. She must know more of this man Gilbert Crosby before she trusted
him fully--and she wanted to trust him. Martin had told her many things
in the past; she had meant to ask Martin whether she ought to stay at
Aylingford; now she had a desire to take her fears to Gilbert Crosby. He
had seemed so strong that day at Newgate; ever since then she had grown
to believe more and more that he was a man to be relied upon in trouble,
and last night--was she a little disappointed in him?
"I have expected so much," she said to herself. "Perhaps a man is never
all that a woman expects him to be."
She went early to the tower, almost afraid that he might have gone in
the night. He was there, and Martin left them much together that day. In
the afternoon they sat side by side on one of the broken pieces of
masonry in the ruins, while Martin lounged by the door opening on to the
terrace; and there was little of Crosby's life that Barbara had not been
told before the dusk came.
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