Then she suddenly snatched her hand away, wrenched her face from mine, and she cried out aloud.
The tension drained away, and my body slumped. I fell forward across her, my face once more buried in the hollow of her shoulder. We lay immobile for many minutes, my breathing irregular and painful, my breath hot in the confined space. Amelia was crying, and I felt her tears trickle down her cheek and against the side of my face.
ii
I moved only once more, to ease a cramp in my left arm, and then I lay still again, most of my weight on Amelia.
For a long time my mind was blank; all desire to justify my actions to myself had drained as quickly as the physical passion. Drained also were the self-recriminations. I lay still, aware only of a slight bruising around my mouth, the residual flavour of Amelia’s kiss and the strands of her hair which brushed my forehead.
She sobbed quietly for a few minutes more, but then became quiet. A few minutes later her breathing became regular, and I judged she had fallen asleep. Soon, I too could feel the fatigue of the day clouding my mind, and in due course I fell asleep.
I do not know how long I slept, but some time later I realized I was awake, yet still in the same position on top of Amelia. Our earlier problem of warmth was banished, for my whole body glowed with heat. I had slept in spite of the awkward angle in which I was lying, and now my back was badly cramped. I wanted to move, to rest from this position, and in addition I could feel the stiff collar of my shirt cutting into my neck and at the front the brass stud was biting into my throat, but I did not want to rouse Amelia. I decided to lie still, and hope to fall asleep again.
I found that my spirits were high, and this in spite of all that had happened. Considered objectively our chances of survival seemed slim; Amelia had also realized this. Unless we were to reach civilization within the next twenty-four hours it was likely we would perish out here on this plateau.
However, I could not forget that glimpse I had had of Amelia’s future destiny.
I knew that if Amelia were to be living in Richmond in the year 1903 she would be killed in the conflagration about the house. I had not been rational at the time, but my irresponsible tampering with the Time Machine had been an instinctive response to this. That accident had precipitated our current predicament, but I was in no way sorry.
Wherever on Earth we were, and in whatever year, I had decided what we were to do. From now I would make it my business to see that Amelia would never return to England until that day had passed!
I had already declared my love for her, and she had seemed to respond; it would be no greater step to avow my love as being eternal, and propose marriage. Whether she would accept I could not say, but I was determined to be resolute and patient. As my wife, she would be subject to my will. Of course, she was clearly of gentle birth, and my own origins were more humble, but I argued to myself that this had not so far been allowed to affect our behaviour to one another; she was an emancipationist, and if our love were true it would not be marred by—
“Are you awake, Edward?”
Her voice was close by my ear.
“Yes. Did I wake you?”
“No … I’ve been awake for some time. I heard your breathing change.”
“Is it daylight yet?” I said.
“I don’t think so.”
“I think I should move,” I said. “My weight must be crushing you.”
Her arms, which were still around my back, tightened momentarily.
“Please stay as you are,” she said.
“I do not wish to seem to be taking advantage of you.”
“It is I who is taking the advantage. You are an excellent substitute for blankets.”
I lifted myself slightly away from her, so that my face was directly above hers. Around us, the leaves rustled in the darkness.
I said: “Amelia, I have something to say to you. I am passionately in love with you.”
Once again her arms tightened their hold, pulling me down so that my face was alongside hers.
“Dear Edward,” she said, hugging me affectionately.
“Do you have nothing else to say?”
“Only… only that I’m sorry for what happened.”
“Do you not love me too?”
“I’m not sure, Edward.”
“Will you marry me?”
I felt her head move: it was shaking from side to side, but beyond this she made no answer.
“Amelia?”
She maintained her silence, and I waited anxiously. She was now quite immobile, her arms resting across my back but exerting no pressure of any kind.
I said: “I cannot conceive of life without you, Amelia. I have known you for such a short time, and yet it is as if I have been with you all my life.”
“That is how I feel,” she said, but her voice was almost inaudible, and her tone was lifeless.
“Then please marry me. When we reach civilization we will find a British Consul or a missionary church, and we may marry at once.”
“We should not talk of these things.”
I said, for my spirits were low: “Are you refusing me?”
“Please, Edward…”
“Are you already engaged to another?”
“No, and I am not refusing you. I say we must not talk of this because of the uncertainty of our prospects. We do not even know in which country we are. And until then…”
Her voice tailed away, sounding as uncertain as her argument.
“But tomorrow,” I went on, “we will find where we are, and will you then present another excuse? I’m asking only one thing: do you love me as much as I love you?”
“I don’t know, Edward.”
“I love you dearly. Can you say that to me?” Unexpectedly; her head turned and for a moment her lips pressed gently against my cheek. Then she said: “I am unusually fond of you, Edward dear.”
I had to be content with that. I raised my head, and brought my lips down to hers. They touched for a second, but then she turned her head away.
“We were foolish before,” she said. “Let us not make the same mistake. We have been forced to pass a night together, and neither of us should take advantage of the other.”
“If that is how you see it.”
“My dear, we must not assume that we will not be discovered. For all we know, this might be someone’s private estate.”
“You have not suggested that before.”
“No, but we may not be as alone as we think.”
“I doubt if anyone will investigate a mound of leaves!” I said.
She laughed then, and hugged me. “We must sleep. We may have another long walk ahead of us.”
“Are you still comfortable in this position?”
“Yes. And you?”
I said: “My collar is hurting me. Would you consider it improper if I were to remove my tie?”
“You are always so formal! Let me do it for you … it must be choking you.”
I raised myself away from her, and with deft fingers she loosened the knot and released both front and back studs. When this was done I lowered myself, and felt her arms closing about my back. I pressed the side of my face to hers, kissed her once on the lobe of her ear, and then we lay still, waiting for sleep to return.
iii
We were awakened not by the rising sun, as our covering leaves effectively filtered the light to an almost imperceptible maroon glow, but by the creaking and groaning of the near-by weed-bank. Amelia and I lay in each other’s arms for a few minutes before rising, as if sensing that the warmth and intimacy of the overnight tryst should be savoured. Then at last we kicked and pushed the scarlet leaves aside, and emerged into the brilliant daylight and hard radiant heat. We stretched elaborately, each of us stiff from the enforced stillness of the night.