but I won't speak o

[Bascle Swelgart]

E which had marked him when he came up from the meadows to her side--an
exceptional condition of things which had scarcely ever before occurred.
When she crossed the pavement from the shop door, the shopman bowing and
escorting her to the carriage, Nicholas chanced to be standing at the
road-waggon office, talking to the master of the waggons. There were a
good many people about, and those near paused and looked at her transit,
in the full stroke of the level October sun, which went under the brims
of their hats, and pierced through their button-holes. From the group
she heard murmured the words: 'Mrs. Nicholas Long.' The unexpected
remark, not without distinct satire in its tone, took her so greatly by
surprise that she was confounded. Nicholas was by this time nearer,
though coming against the sun he had not yet perceived her. Influenced
by her father's lecture, she felt angry with him for being there and
causing this awkwardness. Her notice of him was therefore slight,
supercilious perhaps, slurred over; and her vexation at his presence
showed distinctly in her face as she sat down in her seat. Instead of
catching his waiting eye, she positively turned her head away. A moment
after she was sorry she had treated him so; but he was gone. Reaching
home she found on her dressing-table a note from her father. The
statement was brief: I have considered and am of the same opinion. You
must marry him. He can leave home at once and travel as proposed. I have
written to him to this effect. I don't want any victuals, so don't wait
dinner for me. Nicholas was the wrong kind of man to be blind to his
Christine's mortification, though he did not know its entire cause. He
had lately foreseen something of this sort as possible. 'It serves me
right,' he thought, as he trotted homeward. 'It was absurd--wicked of me
to lead her on so. The sacrifice would have been too great--too cruel!'
And yet, though he thus took her part, he flushed with indignation every
time he said to himself, 'She is ashamed of me!' On the ridge which
overlooked Froom-Everard he met a neighbour of his--a stock-dealer--in
his gig, and they drew rein and exchanged a few words. A part of the
dealer's conversation had much meaning for Nicholas. 'I've
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