on seemed immeasurably nearer than Nic; and life
was made up of little things.

Altogether the firmament looked black for Nicholas Long, notwithstanding
her half-hour's ardour for him when she saw him dancing with the
dairyman's daughter. Most great passions, movements, and
beliefs--individual and national--burst during their decline into a
temporary irradiation, which rivals their original splendour; and then
they speedily become extinct. Perhaps the dance had given the last flare-
up to Christine's love. It seemed to have improvidently consumed for its
immediate purpose all her ardour forwards, so that for the future there
was nothing left but frigidity.

Nicholas had certainly been very foolish about that licence!

CHAPTER IV

This laxity of emotional tone was further increased by an incident, when,
two days later, she kept an appointment with Nicholas in the Sallows. The
Sallows was an extension of shrubberies and plantations along the banks
of the Froom, accessible from the lawn of Froom-Everard House only,
except by wading through the river at the waterfall or elsewhere. Near
the brink was a thicket of box in which a trunk lay prostrate; this had
been once or twice their trysting-place, though it was by no means a safe
one; and it was here she sat awaiting him now.

The noise of the stream muffled any sound of footsteps, and it was before
she was aware of his approach that she looked up and saw him wading
across at the top of the waterfall.

Noontide lights and dwarfed shadows always banished the romantic aspect
of her love for Nicholas. Moreover, something new had occurred to
disturb her; and if ever she had regretted giving way to a tenderness for
him--which perhaps she had not done with any distinctness--she regretted
it now. Yet in the bottom of their hearts those two were excellently
paired, the very twin halves of a perfect whole; and their love was pure.
But at this hour surfaces showed garishly, and obscured the depths.
Probably her regret appeared in her face.

He walked up to her without speaking, the water running from his boots;
and, taking one of her hands in each of his own, looked narrowly into her
eyes.

'Have you thought it over?'

'What?'

'Whether we shall try again; you remember saying you would at the dance?'

'Oh, I had forgotten that!'

'You are sorry we tried at all!' he said accusingly.

'I am not so sorry for the fact as for the rumours,' she said.

'Ah! rum