rner, crowned with a fool's cap, twiddling his thumbs in nervous
fury. Dolorous spectacle, and laughable withal.

He waited four-and-twenty hours, then clutched at Alma's reply. 'Dear
Mr. Rolfe,--Will you come again next Wednesday?' That was all. Did it
amuse her to keep him in suspense? The invitation might imply a
fulfilment of his hopes, but Alma's capriciousness allowed no
certainty; a week's reflection was as likely to have one result as
another. For him it meant a week of solitude and vacancy.

Or would have meant it, but for that sub-vigorous element in his
character, that saving strain of practical rationality, which had
brought him thus far in life without sheer overthrow. An hour after
receiving Alma's enigmatical note, he was oppressed by inertia; another
hour roused him to self-preservation, and supplied him with a project.
That night he took the steamer from Harwich to Antwerp, and for the
next four days wandered through the Netherlands, reviving his memories
of a journey, under very different circumstances, fifteen years ago.
The weather was bright and warm; on the whole he enjoyed himself; he
reached London again early on Wednesday morning, and in the afternoon,
with a touch of weather on his cheek, presented himself at Alma's door.

She awaited him in the drawing-room, alone. This time, he felt sure, no
interruption was to be feared; he entered with confident step and a
cheery salutation. A glance showed him that his common-sense had served
him well; it was Alma who looked pale and thought-worn, who betrayed
timidity, and could not at once command herself.

'What have you been doing?' she asked, remarking his appearance.

'Rambling about a little,' he replied good-humouredly.

'Where? You look as if you had been a voyage.'

'So I have, a short one.'

And he told her how his week had passed.

'So that's how you would like to spend your life--always travelling?'

'Oh no! I did it to kill time. You must remember that a week is
something like a year to a man who is waiting impatiently.'

She dropped her eyes.

'I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. But I never thought you very
impatient. You always seemed to take things philosophically.'

'I generally try to.'

There was a pause. Alma, leaning forward in her chair, kept her eyes
down, and did not raise them when she again spoke.

'You have surprised and perplexed and worried me. I thought in a week's
time I should know what to say, but--Doesn'