rival. There was no need to send the dog-cart for him; he would
prefer taking a fly from the station. Of course, he put forth business
as his plea; but in reality he did not wish Cedric to meet him, the
lad's incessant chatter all the way to Staplegrove would have worried
him excessively. It was just a year since he had seen Elizabeth, and in
his heart he was secretly dreading that first meeting. Perhaps he had
left it too long, he ought to have gone sooner; they would be like
strangers, and the first interview would be very embarrassing to them
both. Yes, he had been a fool to spare himself the pain of seeing her
grief. He had kept away, banishing himself for all these months, and
yet what good had it done him? it had only increased his nervousness
and discomfort tenfold. He was haunted by the fear that he should find
her changed, that she would be cold and distant with him. He worked
himself up into such a fever at last, that half-way up the Staplegrove
Hill he stopped the fly and told the driver that he wished to walk, and
directed him to take his bag to the Wood House.

The walk certainly refreshed him, and by the time he reached the Crow's
Nest he felt more ready for the ordeal. When he came to the gate that
led to the Wood House, he hesitated, and then crossed the road and
stood for a few moments looking down the little woodland path he
remembered so well. No other place was so associated with Elizabeth.
How often he had met her at this little gate, or waited for her when he
knew she was coming back from Rotherwood! That day, for example, when
she wore her white sun-bonnet, and came along swinging her arms like an
imperial milkmaid, a "very queen of curds and cream." At that moment a
little sharp clang of a distant gate made his heart beat suddenly.
There were footsteps--yes, without doubt, there were footsteps--it was
no fancy. Then at the bend of the road he could see distinctly a tall
black figure, walking rather slowly and wearily along, and though he
could not see her face he knew it was Elizabeth.

The next minute he unlatched the gate a little noisily; he would not
steal a march on her--she believed herself alone; then she looked up
and quickened her pace, and when he came up to her, there was actually
a smile on her face.

"You are fond of surprises," she said, looking at him as she gave him
her hand. "Am I late, have you come to meet me; and what have you done
with your luggage?"

"I have sent it on,"