e? Be here to-morrow at the same time, and tell me
what you have seen in the grounds. My terms are only five shillings a
lesson," she went on, in her louder tone. "I'm sure that's not much,
Mr. Bashwood; I give such long lessons, and I get all my pupils' music
half-price." She suddenly dropped her voice again, and looked him
brightly into instant subjection. "Don't let Mr. Armadale out of your
sight to-morrow! If that girl manages to speak to him, and if I don't
hear of it, I'll frighten you to death. If I _do_ hear of it, I'll kiss
you! Hush! Wish me good-night, and go on to the town, and leave me to
go the other way. I don't want you--I'm not afraid of the man behind the
houses; I can deal with him by myself. Say goodnight, and I'll let you
shake hands. Say it louder, and I'll give you one of my flowers, if
you'll promise not to fall in love with it." She raised her voice
again. "Goodnight, Mr. Bashwood! Don't forget my terms. Five shillings a
lesson, and the lessons last an hour at a time, and I get all my pupils'
music half-price, which is an immense advantage, isn't it?" She slipped
a flower into his hand--frowned him into obedience, and smiled to reward
him for obeying, at the same moment--lifted her dress again above the
impurities of the road--and went on her way with a dainty and indolent
deliberation, as a cat goes on her way when she has exhausted the
enjoyment of frightening a mouse.

Left alone, Mr. Bashwood turned to the low cottage wall near which he
had been standing, and, resting himself on it wearily, looked at the
flower in his hand.

His past existence had disciplined him to bear disaster and insult, as
few happier men could have borne them; but it had not prepared him to
feel the master-passion of humanity, for the first time, at the dreary
end of his life, in the hopeless decay of a manhood that had withered
under the double blight of conjugal disappointment and parental sorrow.
"Oh, if I was only young again!" murmured the poor wretch, resting his
arms on the wall and touching the flower with his dry, fevered lips in
a stealthy rapture of tenderness. "She might have liked me when I was
twenty!" He suddenly started back into an erect position, and stared
about him in vacant bewilderment and terror. "She told me to go home,"
he said, with a startled look. "Why am I stopping here?" He turned, and
hurried on to the town--in such dread of her anger, if she looked round
and saw him, that he never so mu