n vulgar, while the sound of
Ralph Newton's voice, as he walked with another girl, was reaching
her ears. And then, before she had seated herself in Mrs. Brownlow's
drawing-room, another idea had struck her. Could it be that Ralph did
not come to her because she had told him that she would never forgive
him for that crime? Was it possible that his own shame was so great
that he was afraid of her? If so, could she not let him know that he
was,--well, forgiven? Poor Clarissa! In the meantime the voices still
came to her from the garden, and she still thought that she could
distinguish Ralph's low murmurings.

It may be feared that Ralph had no such deep sense of his fault as
that suggested. He did remember well enough,--had reflected more
than once or twice,--on those words which he had spoken to Clary.
Having spoken them he had felt his crime to be their not unnatural
accompaniment. At that moment, when he was on the lawn at Fulham, he
had thought that it would be very sweet to devote himself to dear
Clary,--that Clary was the best and prettiest girl he knew, that, in
short, it might be well for him to love her and cherish her and make
her his wife. Had not Patience come upon the scene, and disturbed
them, he would probably then and there have offered to her his hand
and heart. But Patience had come upon the scene, and the offer had
not been, as he thought, made. Since all that, which had passed ages
ago,--weeks and weeks ago,--there had fallen upon him the prosaic
romance of Polly Neefit. He had actually gone down to Hendon to offer
himself as a husband to the breeches-maker's daughter. It is true he
had hitherto escaped in that quarter also,--or, at any rate, had not
as yet committed himself. But the train of incidents and thoughts
which had induced him to think seriously of marrying Polly, had
made him aware that he could not propose marriage to Sir Thomas
Underwood's daughter. From such delight as that he found, on calm
reflection, that he had debarred himself by the folly of his past
life. It was well that Patience had come upon the scene.

Such being the state of affairs with him, that little episode with
Clary being at an end,--or rather, as he thought, never having quite
come to a beginning,--and his little arrangement as to Polly Neefit
being in abeyance, he was free to amuse himself with this newcomer.
Miss Bonner was certainly the most lovely girl he had ever seen. He
could imagine no beauty to exceed hers.