She repelled my mocking smile with a glance of scornful indignation.

`Because you never understood me, or you would not soon have listened to my traducers--my confidence would be misplaced in you--you are not the man I thought you--Go! I won't care what you think of me!'

She turned away, and I went; for I thought that would torment her as much as anything; and I believe I was right; for, looking back a minute after, I saw her turn half round, as if hoping or egg to find me still beside her; and then she stood still, and cast one look behind. It was a look less expressive of anger than of bitter anguish and despair; but I immediately assumed an aspect of indifference, and affected to be gazing carelessly round me, and I suppose she went on; for after lingering awhile to see if she would come back or call, I ventured one more glance, and saw her a good way off, moving rapidly up the field with little Arthur running by her side and apparently talking as he went; but she kept her face averted from him, as if to hide some uncontrollable emotion. And I returned to my business.

But I soon began to regret my precipitancy in leaving her so soon It was evident she loved me--probably she was tired of Mr Lawrence, and wished to exchange him for me; and if I had loved and reverenced her less to begin with, the preference might have gratified and amused me; but now, the contrast between her out+ward seeming and her inward mind, as I supposed,--between my former and my present opinion of her, was so harrowing--so distressing to my feelings, that it swallowed up every lighter consideration.

But still I was curious to know what sort of an explanation she would have given me,--or would give now, if I pressed hem for it--how much she would confess, and how she would endeavour to excuse herself. I longed to know what to despise, and what to admire in her, how much to pity, and how much to hate;-- and, what was more, I would know. I would see her once more, and fairly satisfy myself in what light to regard her, before we parted. Lost to me she was, for ever, of course; but still I could not bear to think that we had parted, for the last time, with so much unkindness and misery on both sides. That last look of hen had sunk into my heart; I could not forget it--But what a fool I was!--Had she not deceived me, injured me--blighted my happiness for life?--`Well, I'll see her, however,' was my concluding resolve,--`but not to-day: to-day and to-night, she may think upon her sins, and be as miserable as she will: tomorrow, I will see her once again, and know something more about her. The interview may be serviceable to her, or it may not.--At any rate, it will give a breath of excitement to the life she has doomed to stagnation, and may with certainty some agitating thoughts.'

I did go on the morrow; but not till towards evening, after the business of the day was concluded, that is between six and seven; and the westering sun was gleaming redly on the old hall, and flaming in the latticed windows, as I reached it, imparting to the place a chess not its own. I need not dilate upon the feelings with which I approached the shrine of my former divinity--that spot teeming with a thousand delightful recollections and glorious dreams--all darkened now, by one disastrous truth.

Rachel admitted me into the parlour, and went to call her mistress, for she was not there; but there was her desk left open on the little round table beside the high-backed chair, with a book laid upon it. Her limited but choice collection of books was almost as familiar to me as my own; but this volume I had not seen before. I took it up. It was Sir Humphrey Davy's `Last days of a Philosopher,' and on the first leaf was written,--`Frederick Lawrence.' I closed the book, but kept it in my hand, and stood facing the door, with my back to the fireplace, calmly waiting her arrival; for I did not doubt she would come. And soon I heard her step in the hall. My heart was berg to throb, but I checked it with an internal rebuke, and maintained my composure--outwardly, at least, She entered, calm, pale, collected.

`To what am I indebted for this favour, Mr Markham?' said she, with such severe but quiet dignity as almost disconcerted me; but I answered with a smile, and impudently enough:--

`Well, I am come to hear your explanation.'

`I told you I would not give it,' said she. `I said you were unworthy of my confidence.'