face,
recognizing his weakness, and in this supremest moment of recognition
he was a stronger man than he had been an hour before. His drooping
shoulders had straightened; the restless look had gone from his eyes;
his somber face had something of repose in it, the repose of a settled
purpose. He was a failure, but perhaps if he took the risks (and
if Nancy would take them--but that was the trouble, women were so
unselfish, they were always willing to take risks, and one ought not to
let them!), perhaps he might do better in trying to make a living for
two than he had in working for himself alone. He would go home, tell
Nancy that he was an unlucky good-for-naught, and ask her if she would
try her hand at making him over.

VI. These were the reasons that had brought Justin Peabody to Edgewood
on the Saturday afternoon before Christmas, and had taken him to the new
tavern on Tory Hill, near the meeting-house.

Nobody recognized him at the station or noticed him at the tavern, and
after his supper he put on his overcoat and started out for a walk,
aimlessly hoping that he might meet a friend, or failing that, intending
to call on some of his old neighbors, with the view of hearing the
village news and securing some information which might help him to
decide when he had better lay himself and his misfortunes at Nancy
Wentworth's feet. They were pretty feet! He remembered that fact well
enough under the magical influence of familiar sights and sounds and
odors. He was restless, miserable, anxious, homesick--not for Detroit,
but for some heretofore unimagined good; yet, like Bunyan's shepherd boy
in the Valley of humiliation, he carried "the herb called Heartsease in
his bosom," for he was at last loving consciously.

How white the old church looked, and how green the blinds! It must
have been painted very lately: that meant that the parish was fairly
prosperous. There were new shutters in the belfry tower, too; he
remembered the former open space and the rusty bell, and he liked the
change. Did the chimney use to be in that corner? No; but his father had
always said it would have drawn better if it had been put there in the
beginning. New shingles within a year: that was evident to a practiced
eye. He wondered if anything had been done to the inside of the
building, but he must wait until the morrow to see, for, of course, the
doors would be locked. No; the one at the right side was ajar. He opened
it softly and ste