t actuated me, and now the work is undertaken, and--and I cannot turn
back," he added quickly, as if fearing himself.

"No indeed," was her steady reply.

"Then I may believe it!" cried Norman. "You do--you will--you
deliberately choose to share it with me?"

"I will try not to be a weight on you," answered the young girl, with
a sweet mixture of resolution and humility. "It would be the greatest
possible privilege. I really do not think I am a fine lady ingrain, and
you will teach me not to be too unworthy."

"I? Oh, Meta, you know not what I am! Yet with you, with you to inspire,
to strengthen, to cheer--Meta, Meta, life is so much changed before me,
that I cannot understand it yet--after the long dreary hopelessness--"

"I can't think why--" Meta had half said, when feminine dignity checked
the words, consciousness and confusion suddenly assailed her, dyed her
cheeks crimson, and stifled her voice.

It was the same with Norman, and bashfulness making a sudden prey of
both--on they went under its dominion, in a condition partaking equally
of discomfort and felicity; dreading the sound of their own voices,
afraid of each other's faces, feeling they were treating each other very
strangely and ungratefully, yet without an idea what to say next, or the
power of speaking first; and therefore pacing onwards, looking gravely
straight along the path, as if to prevent the rabbits and foxgloves from
guessing that anything had been passing between them.

Dr. May had made his call at Drydale, and was driving up a rough lane,
between furzy banks, leading to Cocksmoor, when he was aware of a tall
gentleman on one side of the road and a little lady on the other,
with the whole space of the cart-track between them, advancing soberly
towards him.

"Hallo! Why, Meta! Norman! what brings you here? Where are you going?"

Norman perceived that he had turned to the left instead of to the right,
and was covered with shame.

"That is all your wits are good for. It is well I met you, or you would
have led poor Meta a pretty dance! You will know better than to trust
yourself to the mercies of a scholar another time. Let me give you a
lift."

The courteous doctor sprang out to hand Meta in, but something made him
suddenly desire Adams to drive on, and then turning round to the two
young people, he said, "Oh!"

"Yes," said Norman, taking her hand, and drawing her towards him.

"What, Meta, my pretty one, is it really so? Is he to