he followed closely. They proceeded in silence for
some time. Now that she knew that he had not left her a moment alone in
the woods, she felt more deeply grieved at having so mortified and
offended him. At last she spoke:

"Pray, do not be angry with me, dear Thurston."

"I am not angry that I know of, fair one; and you do me too much honor
to care about my mood. Understand me once for all. I am not a Dr.
Grimshaw, in any phase of that gentleman's character. I am neither the
tyrant who will persecute you to exact your attention, nor yet the slave
who will follow and coax and whine and wheedle for your favor. In either
character I should despise myself too much," he answered, coolly.

"Thurston, you are deeply displeased, or you would not speak so, and I
am very, very sorry," said Marian in a tremulous voice.

"Do not distress yourself about me, fair saint! I shall trouble you no
more after this evening!"

What did he mean? What could Thurston mean? Trouble her no more after
this evening! She did not understand the words, but they went through
her bosom like a sword. She did not reply--she could not. She wished to
say:

"Oh, Thurston, if you could read my heart--how singly it is devoted to
you--how its thoughts by day, and dreams by night are filled with
histories and images of what I would be, and do or suffer for you--of
how faithfully I mean to love and serve you in all our coming years--you
would not mistake me, and get angry, because you would know my heart."
But these words Marian could not have uttered had her life depended on
it.

"Go on, Marian, the moor is no safer than the forest; I shall attend you
across it."

And they went on until the light from Old Field Cottage was visible.
Then Marian said:

"You had better leave me now. They are sitting up and watching for me."

"No! go on, the night is very dark. I must see you to the gate."

They walked rapidly, and just as they approached the house Marian saw a
little figure wandering about on the moor, and which suddenly sprang
toward her with an articulate cry of joy! It was Miriam, who threw
herself upon Marian with such earnestness of welcome that she did not
notice Thurston, who now raised his hat slightly from his head, with a
slight nod, and walked rapidly away.

"Here she is, mother! Oh! here she is!" cried Miriam, pulling at
Marian's dress and drawing her in the house.

"Oh! Marian, how anxious you have made us! Where have you been?" asked