table.

"Nothing but my love, Johnny."

"No worsted or embroidery work,--or a pot of special jam for the
squire?"

"No, sir, nothing; though I should like to make you carry a pair of
panniers, if I could."

"They would become me well," said Johnny, "for I am going on an ass's
errand." Then, without waiting for the word of affection which was on
the old woman's lips, he got himself out of the room, and started on
his journey.

The walk was only three miles and the weather was dry and frosty, and
he had come to the turn leading up to the church and the squire's
house almost before he remembered that he was near Allington. Here
he paused for a moment to think. If he continued his way down by the
"Red Lion" and through Allington Street, he must knock at Mrs. Dale's
door, and ask for admission by means of the servant,--as would be
done by any ordinary visitor. But he could make his way on to the
lawn by going up beyond the wall of the churchyard and through the
squire's garden. He knew the path well,--very well; and he thought
that he might take so much liberty as that, both with the squire and
Mrs. Dale, although his visits to Allington were not so frequent now
as they used to be in the days of his boyhood. He did not wish to be
admitted by the servant, and therefore he went through the gardens.
Luckily he did not see the squire, who would have detained him, and
he escaped from Hopkins, the old gardener, with little more than a
word. "I'm going down to see the ladies, Hopkins; I suppose I shall
find them?" And then, while Hopkins was arranging his spade so that
he might lean upon it for a little chat, Johnny was gone and had made
his way into the other garden. He had thought it possible that he
might meet Lily out among the walks by herself, and such a meeting as
this would have suited him better than any other. And as he crossed
the little bridge which separated the gardens he thought of more than
one such meeting,--of one especial occasion on which he had first
ventured to tell her in plain words that he loved her. But before
that day Crosbie had come there, and at the moment in which he was
speaking of his love she regarded Crosbie as an angel of light upon
the earth. What hope could there have been for him then? What use was
there in telling such a tale of love at that time? When he told it,
he knew that Crosbie had been before him. He knew that Crosbie was at
that moment the angel of light. But as he had never b