, coarse, loud-talking, and vulgar; a girl who
had appealed only to what was coarse in his own nature. And he had
yielded to her blandishments; he had left a pure, refined girl for her,
and he had lost Alice for ever.

That was the bitterness in Tom's cup of joy. He was proud of what he
had done--what fellow situated as he was would not be? His heart
thrilled with exultation as he remembered what the Colonel had said and
written about him. He remembered with joy, too, what his comrades had
said when he left for home, and the cheers they gave him.

Oh, if he hadn't been such a fool!

He thought of what his home-coming might have been if he had remained
true to Alice; he fancied the look in her eyes as she greeted him; of
the feelings which would fill his heart as he sat by her side in the
church which she attended. But that was impossible now; he had made
his choice, and she had made hers. Thus his home-coming would be
robbed of half its joy. If he saw Alice at all she would be in the
company of Harry Briarfield, and Briarfield, he knew, had always looked
down upon him. "But there," he said to himself, "I'll bear it like a
man. I have done my bit, and that's something, anyhow."

He had sent a telegram to his mother the day before, telling her of the
time he expected to arrive in Brunford, and presently when the train
drew into the station he looked out of the window eagerly expectant,
and with fast-beating heart.

Yes, there his father and mother were, waiting for him. But what was
the meaning of the crowd?

No sooner did he set foot on the platform than a great cheer arose.

"There he is! There's Tom Pollard!"

"Gi't tongue, lads! Gi't tongue! Hip! hip! hip! hoorah!"

Tom, heedless of the cheering and shouting, went straight to his
mother. For a second this lady looked at him, and seemed to be on the
point of greeting him with a caustic remark; then her mother's heart
melted.

"Ay, Tom, I'm fair glad to see thee," she sobbed.

"And I am glad to see you, mother. Ay, father, it is good to see you,
it is."

"And I am fair proud on you, Tom," and Ezekiel Pollard's voice was
hoarse as he shook his son's hand.

"But, Tom," cried Mrs. Pollard, wiping her eyes, "thy clothes be dirty;
I shall have a rare job to get th' muck out of 'em."

This was followed by a general laugh by those who had come to greet Tom
and bid him welcome.

"Ay, and thou look'st as though thou hasn't weshed for a week. I