g which would renew his
self-respect. It might prove the line of least resistance to take this
course. He felt not sorry at the immediate prospect of meeting Sabina.
In his present mood that might be a good thing to happen. Annoyance
passed, and when he did take leave it was with more expressions of
gratitude.

"I don't know why you are so extraordinarily good to me," he said. "I
certainly don't deserve it. But the least I can do is throw up the
sponge and do as you will, and trust your judgment. I don't say I agree
with you, but I'm going to do it; and if it's a failure, I shan't blame
you, Aunt Jenny."

"It won't be a failure. I'm as sure as I'm sure of anything that it will
be a splendid success, Raymond. Come again, very soon, and tell me what
you decide about a house. And remember one thing--don't fly away and
take a house goodness knows where. Always reckon with the possibility--I
think certainty--that Daniel will soon be friendly, when he hears you're
going to be married."

He left her very exhausted, and if her spirits sank a little after his
departure, Raymond's tended to rise. The night air and moonlight brisked
him up; he felt a reaction towards Sabina and perceived that she must
have suffered a good deal. He threw the blame on her mother. Once out of
Bridetown things would settle down; and if his brother came to his
senses and asked him to return, he would make it a condition that he
worked henceforth at Bridport. A feeling of hatred for Bridetown
mastered him.

He descended West Street until the town lay behind him, then turned to
the left through a wicket, crossed some meadows and reached a popular
local tryst and sanctity: the Lovers' Grove. A certain crudity in the
ideas of Miss Ironsyde struck Raymond. How simple and primitive she was
after all. Could such an unworldly and inexperienced woman be right? He
doubted it. But he went on through the avenue of lime and sycamore trees
which made the traditional grove. Beneath them ran pavement of rough
stones, that lifted the pathway above possible inundation, and,
to-night, the pattern of the naked boughs above was thrown down upon the
stones in a black lace work by the moon. The place was very still, but
half a mile distant there dreamed great woods, whence came the hooting
of an owl.

Raymond stood to listen, and when the bird was silent, he heard a
footfall ring on the paving-stones and saw Sabina coming to him. At
heart she had been fearful that he