ull and
straight, and looking at her in such a manner that she could not look
away, without appearing vanquished by feelings of her own--which thing
was very vile of me; but all men are so selfish,--

"Dear cousin, tell me, once for all, what is your advice to me?"

[Illustration: 572.jpg What is your advice to me?]

"My advice to you," she answered bravely, with her dark eyes full of
pride, and instead of flinching, foiling me,--"is to do what every man
must do, if he would win fair maiden. Since she cannot send you token,
neither is free to return to you, follow her, pay your court to her;
show that you will not be forgotten; and perhaps she will look down--I
mean, she will relent to you."

"She has nothing to relent about. I have never vexed nor injured her.
My thoughts have never strayed from her. There is no one to compare with
her."

"Then keep her in that same mind about you. See now, I can advise no
more. My arm is swelling painfully, in spite of all your goodness, and
bitter task of surgeonship. I shall have another poultice on, and go to
bed, I think, Cousin Ridd, if you will not hold me ungrateful. I am so
sorry for your long walk. Surely it might be avoided. Give my love to
dear Lizzie: oh, the room is going round so."

And she fainted into the arms of Sally, who was come just in time to
fetch her: no doubt she had been suffering agony all the time she talked
to me. Leaving word that I would come again to inquire for her,
and fetch Kickums home, so soon as the harvest permitted me, I gave
directions about the horse, and striding away from the ancient town, was
soon upon the moorlands.

Now, through the whole of that long walk--the latter part of which was
led by starlight, till the moon arose--I dwelt, in my young and foolish
way, upon the ordering of our steps by a Power beyond us. But as I could
not bring my mind to any clearness upon this matter, and the stars shed
no light upon it, but rather confused me with wondering how their Lord
could attend to them all, and yet to a puny fool like me, it came to
pass that my thoughts on the subject were not worth ink, if I knew them.

But it is perhaps worth ink to relate, so far as I can do so, mother's
delight at my return, when she had almost abandoned hope, and concluded
that I was gone to London, in disgust at her behaviour. And now she was
looking up the lane, at the rise of the harvest-moon, in despair, as she
said afterwards. But if she had despair