nder my window. However, be all this as it
may, it would be wrong to say that the meeting between Catharine and Mr.
Cardew was prevented by accident. She loitered: she went up Fosbrooke
Street: if she had gone straight to Mr. Cardew she might have been with
him before Tom met him. Tom would not have interrupted them, for he
ventured to speak to Mr. Cardew merely because he was alone, and Mrs.
Cardew would not have interrupted them, for they would have gone further
afield. Tom's appearance even was not an accident, but a thread
carefully woven, one may say, in the web that night.

"I saw you at church to-night, Miss Catharine," said Tom, as they walked
homewards.

"Why did you go? You do not usually go to church."

"I thought I should like to hear Mr. Cardew, and I am very glad I went."

"Are you? What did you think of him? Did you like him?"

"Oh, yes; it was all true; but what he said about Christ the Mediator was
so clearly put."

"You did not care for the rest then?"

"I did indeed, Miss Catharine, but it is just the same with our minister;
I get along with him so much better when he seems to follow the
catechism, but"--he looked up in her face--"I know that is not what you
cared for. Oh, Miss Catharine," he cried suddenly, and quite altering
his voice and manner, "I do not know when I shall have another chance; I
hardly dare tell you; you won't spurn me, will you? My father was a poor
workman; I was nothing better, and should have been nothing better if it
had not been for you; all my schooling almost I have done myself; I know
nothing compared with what you know; but, Miss Catharine, I love you to
madness: I have loved no woman but you; never looked at one, I may say.
Do you remember when you rode home with me from Chapel Farm? I have
lived on it ever since. You are far above me: things come and speak to
you which I don't see. If you would teach me I should soon see them
too."

Catharine was silent, and perfectly calm. At last she said--

"My dear Tom."

Tom shuddered at the tone.

"No, Miss Catharine, don't say it now; think a little; don't cast me off
in a moment."

"My dear Tom, I may as well say it now, for what I ought to say is as
clear as that moon in the sky. I can _never_ love you as a wife ought to
love her husband."

"Oh, Miss Catharine! you despise me, you despise me! Why in God's name?"
Tom rose above himself, and became such another self that Catharine was
amazed and ha