m--I can't bear even to speak of it! Pray don't think me bold; I
don't know how to express myself. You ought never to have come here; you
ought to go; you _must_ go!"

Driven by strong impulse, she ran to the place in which I had left my
hat, and brought it to me, and opened the door with a look of entreaty
which it was impossible to resist. It would have been an act of downright
cruelty to persist in opposing her. "I wouldn't distress you, Cristel,
for the whole world," I said--and left her to conclude that I had felt
the influence of her entreaties in the right way. She tried to thank me;
the tears rose in her eyes--she signed to me to leave her, poor soul, as
if she felt ashamed of herself. I was shocked; I was grieved; I was more
than ever secretly resolved to go back to her. When we said good-bye--I
have been told that I did wrong; I meant no harm--I kissed her.

Having traversed the short distance between the cottage and the wood, I
remembered that I had left my walking-stick behind me, and returned to
get it.

Cristel was leaving the kitchen; I saw her at the door which communicated
with the Lodger's side of the cottage. Her back was turned towards me;
astonishment held me silent. She opened the door, passed through it, and
closed it behind her.

Going to that man, after she had repelled his advances, in my presence!
Going to the enemy against whom she had warned me, after I had first been
persuaded to leave her! Angry thoughts these--and surely thoughts
unworthy of me? If it had been the case of another man I should have said
he was jealous. Jealous of the miller's daughter--in my position? Absurd!
contemptible! But I was still in such a vile temper that I determined to
let Cristel know she had been discovered. Taking one of my visiting
cards, I wrote on it: "I came back for my stick, and saw you go to him."
After I had pinned this spiteful little message to the door, so that she
might see it when she returned, I suffered a disappointment. I was not
half so well satisfied with myself as I had anticipated.

CHAPTER VII

THE BEST SOCIETY

Leaving the cottage for the second time, I was met at the door by a fat
man of solemn appearance dressed in black, who respectfully touched his
hat. My angry humor acknowledged the harmless stranger's salute by a rude
inquiry: "What the devil do you want?" Instead of resenting this uncivil
language, he indirectly reproved me by becoming more respectful than
ever.

"