rned round and waved
his hand--then went on, and never turned again. I sat down on the
sand-hillock where we had said Good-bye, and burst out crying. What with
the dreadful secret he had been telling me as we came along, and then
the parting when I didn't expect it, all I had of the man about me gave
way somehow in a moment. And I sat alone, crying and sobbing on the
sand-hillock, with the surf roaring miles out at sea behind me, and the
great plain before, with Matthew walking over it alone on his way to the
mountains beyond.

"When I had had time to get ashamed of myself for crying, and had got my
eyesight clear again, he was already far away from me. I ran to the
top of the highest hillock, and watched him over the plain--a desert,
without a shrub to break the miles and miles of flat ground spreading
away to the mountains. I watched him, as he got smaller and smaller--I
watched till he got a mere black speck--till I was doubtful whether I
still saw him or not--till I was certain at last, that the great vacancy
of the plain had swallowed him up from sight.

"My heart was very heavy, Valentine, as I went back to the town by
myself. It is sometimes heavy still; for though I think much of my
mother, and of my sister--whom you have been so kind a father to, and
whose affection it is such a new happiness to me to have the prospect of
soon returning--I think occasionally of dear old Mat, too, and have
my melancholy moments when I remember that he and I are not going back
together.

"I hope you will think me improved by my long trip--I mean in behavior,
as well as health. I have seen much, and learnt much, and thought
much--and I hope I have really profited and altered for the better
during my absence. It is such a pleasure to think I am really going
home--"

Here Mr. Blyth stops abruptly and closes the letter, for Mrs. Thorpe
re-enters the room. "The rest is only about when he expects to be back,"
whispers Valentine to Mrs. Peckover. "By my calculations," he continues,
raising his voice and turning towards Mrs. Thorpe; "by my calculations
(which, not having a mathematical head, I don't boast of, mind, as
being infallibly correct), Zack is likely, I should say, to be here in
about--"

"Hush! hush! hush!" cries Mrs. Peckover, jumping up with incredible
agility at the window, and clapping her hands in a violent state of
excitement. "Don't talk about when he will be here--_here he is!_ He's
come in a cab--he's got out