m, I'm not going
back now, and I think I'll walk to Mrs. Elliott's. You had better meet
me here at half-past two."

And with a parting glance at Hardwicke she went away down the sunshiny
street, and he stood looking after her. He would have liked to be her
escort to the Elliotts' house, but he had her message to deliver to his
father, and he knew she would not permit it. Besides, to tell the truth,
she had taken him by surprise, and gone away before he thought of
anything of the kind. So he could only stand bareheaded on the
office-steps watching her as she went on her way. But suddenly his lips
parted to let out a word, which certainly would not have escaped him had
he been by Sissy's side. "There's that Fothergill fellow!" said Henry,
recognizing the captain's slim figure and black moustache. And he turned
on his heel and went in.

He was quite right. It was Fothergill who came sauntering along the
pavement, looking at the shop-windows, at the passers-by, at the
preparations for the market, with quick eyes and an interest which
conveyed the impression of his superiority to it all better than any
affectation of languid indifference. His glances seemed to say, "And
this is a country town--a market--these are farmers--people live here
all their lives!" But when he saw Sissy Langton he came forward eagerly.
And perhaps it was just as well that he was at hand to be her squire
through the busy little street, for the girl was seized with a new and
unaccountable nervousness. A bit of orange-peel lying in the road caused
her a sudden tremor. Two or three meek and wondering cows, which gazed
vacantly round in search of their familiar pasture, appeared to her as a
herd of savage brutes. She looked distrustfully up and down the road,
and waited at the pavement's edge for a donkey-cart to pass before she
dared attempt a crossing. It was just at this moment that the captain
appeared, quickening his pace and lifting his hat, only too ready to
guard her through all the perils of a Fordborough market-day.

Henry Hardwicke hated reading, and had no particular love for the law.
His father said he was a fool, and was inordinately fond of him
nevertheless. It might be that the old lawyer was right on both points.
And, dull as Henry was supposed to be, he was capable of delicate
feelings and perceptions as far as Sissy Langton was concerned. It
seemed to him that accident had revealed to him a hidden wound in her
heart; and the revelati