he had been allowed just to
touch her fingers, now five years ago.

It was she, of course, whom he had come to see, and there she was to be
seen. It was of her that he had come to form a judgment,--to tell
himself whether she was or was not such as he had dreamed her to be. He
had not been so foolishly romantic as to have been unaware that in all
probability she might have grown up to be something very different from
that which his fancy had depicted. It might or it might not come to pass
that that promise of loveliness,--of loveliness combined with innocence
and full intelligence,--should be kept. How often it is that Nature is
unkind to a girl as she grows into womanhood, and robs the attractive
child of her charms! How often will the sparkle of early youth get
itself quenched utterly by the dampness and clouds of the opening world.
He knew all that,--and knew too that he had only just seen her, had
barely heard the voice which had sounded so silvery sweet in his ears.

But there she was,--to be seen again, to be heard, if possible, and to
receive his judgment. 'Miss Bolton,' he said, coming down the stone
steps which he had ascended, that he might ring the bell, and offering
her his hand.

'Mr. Caldigate!'

'You remember me, then?'

'Oh yes, I remember you very well. I do not see people often enough to
forget them. And papa said that you were coming home.'

'I have come at once to call upon your mother and your father,--and upon
you. I have to thank him for great kindness to me before I went.'

'Poor mamma is not quite well,' said the daughter. 'She has headaches so
often, and she has one now. And papa has not come back from the bank. I
have been gardening and am all----.' Then she stopped and blushed, as
though ashamed of herself for saying so much.

'I am sorry Mrs. Bolton is unwell. I will not go the ceremony of leaving
a card, as I hope to able to come again to thank her for her kindness
before I went on my travels. Will you tell your father that I called?'
Then he mounted his horse, feeling, as he did so, that he was throwing
away an opportunity which kind fortune had given him. There they were
together, he and this girl of whom he had dreamed;--and now he was
leaving her, because he did not know how to hold her in conversation for
ten minutes! But it was true, and he had to leave her. He could not
instantly tell her how he admired her, how he loved her, how he had
thought of her, and how completely sh