him to-day--of continuing to notice
Hetty, of allowing himself any opportunity for such slight caresses as
he had been betrayed into already--than he refused to believe such a
future possible for himself. To flirt with Hetty was a very different
affair from flirting with a pretty girl of his own station: that was
understood to be an amusement on both sides, or, if it became serious,
there was no obstacle to marriage. But this little thing would be spoken
ill of directly, if she happened to be seen walking with him; and then
those excellent people, the Poysers, to whom a good name was as precious
as if they had the best blood in the land in their veins--he should hate
himself if he made a scandal of that sort, on the estate that was to be
his own some day, and among tenants by whom he liked, above all, to be
respected. He could no more believe that he should so fall in his own
esteem than that he should break both his legs and go on crutches all
the rest of his life. He couldn't imagine himself in that position; it
was too odious, too unlike him.

And even if no one knew anything about it, they might get too fond of
each other, and then there could be nothing but the misery of parting,
after all. No gentleman, out of a ballad, could marry a farmer's niece.
There must be an end to the whole thing at once. It was too foolish.

And yet he had been so determined this morning, before he went to
Gawaine's; and while he was there something had taken hold of him and
made him gallop back. It seemed he couldn't quite depend on his own
resolution, as he had thought he could; he almost wished his arm would
get painful again, and then he should think of nothing but the comfort
it would be to get rid of the pain. There was no knowing what impulse
might seize him to-morrow, in this confounded place, where there was
nothing to occupy him imperiously through the livelong day. What could
he do to secure himself from any more of this folly?

There was but one resource. He would go and tell Irwine--tell him
everything. The mere act of telling it would make it seem trivial; the
temptation would vanish, as the charm of fond words vanishes when one
repeats them to the indifferent. In every way it would help him to tell
Irwine. He would ride to Broxton Rectory the first thing after breakfast
to-morrow.

Arthur had no sooner come to this determination than he began to think
which of the paths would lead him home, and made as short a walk thit