on the prickles of the old hawthorn before
he emerged from the Rectory gates. After that it was easier. Many of the
cottage people were indeed going to bed, but by the light which remained
in a window here and there he was able to preserve himself from accident
as he strolled along. Two or three dogs, sworn enemies to innovation,
scented him, and protested at their loudest against the novelty, not
to say wickedness, of a passenger at that hour of the night. It was,
perhaps, to them what Lizzie Hampson's independence was to Mrs.
Wilberforce,--a sign of the times. He made his way along, stumbling here
and there, sending into the still air the odour of his cigar, towards
the spot where the window of the little shop shone in the distance like
a low, dim, somewhat smoky star, the rays of which shaped themselves
slightly iridescent against the thick damp atmosphere of the night.
Cavendish went up to this dull shining, and stared through the window
for a moment through the sticks of barley sugar and boxes of mustard
and biscuits. He did not know there was any special significance in
the sight of Lizzie Hampson seated there within the counter, demurely
sewing, and apparently unconscious of any spectators, but it was enough
to have startled any of the neighbours who were aware of Lizzie's ways.
The old grandmother had gone to see her daughter in the village, who
was ill; but in such cases it was Lizzie's way to leave the door of the
room in which she sat open, and to give a very contemptuous attention
to the tinkle of the little bell attached to the door which announced a
customer. Now, however, she sat in the shop, ready to supply anything
that might be wanted. Dick strolled past quietly, and went a little way
on beyond, but then he came back. He did not linger at the window, as
one of Lizzie's admirers might have done. He passed it twice; then, with
a somewhat anxious gaze round him, went in. He asked for matches, with
a glance at the open door of the room behind. Lizzie said nothing, but
something in her look gave him as well as words could have done an
assurance of safety. He had closed the door of the shop behind him. He
now said quickly, "Then I was not mistaken, and it is you, Lizzie."

There was not the slightest appearance in her of the air of a rustic
flirt waiting for a lover, still less of anything more objectionable.
Her look was serious, full of resistance and even of defiance, as if the
encounter was against her w