is, had been so
far from his thoughts that he could only look at her in silent wonder.

Dolly in the meanwhile, turned to the corners of her apron, and measured
the sides, and smoothed out the wrinkles, and was as silent as he. At
last after a long pause, Joe said good-bye. 'Good-bye'--said Dolly--with
as pleasant a smile as if he were going into the next street, and were
coming back to supper; 'good-bye.'

'Come,' said Joe, putting out both hands, 'Dolly, dear Dolly, don't let
us part like this. I love you dearly, with all my heart and soul; with
as much truth and earnestness as ever man loved woman in this world, I
do believe. I am a poor fellow, as you know--poorer now than ever, for
I have fled from home, not being able to bear it any longer, and must
fight my own way without help. You are beautiful, admired, are loved by
everybody, are well off and happy; and may you ever be so! Heaven forbid
I should ever make you otherwise; but give me a word of comfort. Say
something kind to me. I have no right to expect it of you, I know, but
I ask it because I love you, and shall treasure the slightest word from
you all through my life. Dolly, dearest, have you nothing to say to me?'

No. Nothing. Dolly was a coquette by nature, and a spoilt child. She had
no notion of being carried by storm in this way. The coachmaker would
have been dissolved in tears, and would have knelt down, and called
himself names, and clasped his hands, and beat his breast, and tugged
wildly at his cravat, and done all kinds of poetry. Joe had no business
to be going abroad. He had no right to be able to do it. If he was in
adamantine chains, he couldn't.

'I have said good-bye,' said Dolly, 'twice. Take your arm away directly,
Mr Joseph, or I'll call Miggs.'

'I'll not reproach you,' answered Joe, 'it's my fault, no doubt. I have
thought sometimes that you didn't quite despise me, but I was a fool to
think so. Every one must, who has seen the life I have led--you most of
all. God bless you!'

He was gone, actually gone. Dolly waited a little while, thinking he
would return, peeped out at the door, looked up the street and down as
well as the increasing darkness would allow, came in again, waited a
little longer, went upstairs humming a tune, bolted herself in, laid
her head down on her bed, and cried as if her heart would break. And yet
such natures are made up of so many contradictions, that if Joe Willet
had come back that night, next day, ne