till young; I have
lost some courage in a few hours--she'll find that I remembered her, and
loved her to the last! This is the end of what you showed me. Now, it's
over!"

"Oh no, John, not over! Do not say it's over yet! Not quite yet. I have
heard your noble words. I could not steal away, pretending to be
ignorant of what has affected me with such deep gratitude. Do not say
it's over till the clock has struck again!"

She had entered shortly after Tackleton, and had remained there. She
never looked at Tackleton, but fixed her eyes upon her husband. But she
kept away from him, setting as wide a space as possible between them;
and, though she spoke with most impassioned earnestness, she went no
nearer to him even then. How different in this from her old self!

"No hand can make the clock which will strike again for me the hours
that are gone," replied the Carrier with a faint smile. "But let it be
so, if you will, my dear. It will strike soon. It's of little matter
what we say. I'd try to please you in a harder case than that."

"Well!" muttered Tackleton. "I must be off, for, when the clock strikes
again, it'll be necessary for me to be upon my way to church. Good
morning, John Peerybingle. I'm sorry to be deprived of the pleasure of
your company. Sorry for the loss, and the occasion of it too!"

"I have spoken plainly?" said the Carrier, accompanying him to the door.

"Oh, quite!"

"And you'll remember what I have said?"

"Why, if you compel me to make the observation," said Tackleton,
previously taking the precaution of getting into his chaise, "I must say
that it was so very unexpected, that I'm far from being likely to forget
it."

"The better for us both," returned the Carrier. "Good-bye. I give you
joy!"

"I wish I could give it to _you_," said Tackleton. "As I can't, thankee.
Between ourselves (as I told you before, eh?) I don't much think I shall
have the less joy in my married life because May hasn't been too
officious about me, and too demonstrative. Good-bye! Take care of
yourself."

The Carrier stood looking after him until he was smaller in the distance
than his horse's flowers and favours near at hand; and then, with a deep
sigh, went strolling like a restless, broken man, among some
neighbouring elms; unwilling to return until the clock was on the eve of
striking.

His little wife, being left alone, sobbed piteously; but often dried her
eyes and checked herself, to say how good he was, ho