he next train to London. He called to one of
the porters, obtained and imparted the time; evidently now, as shown by
an unevenness of his lifted brows, expecting news of some little weight.

'Your husband is quite well?' he said, in affection for the name of
husband.

'Mr. Radnor is well; I have to speak to you; I have more than time.'

'You will lunch at the inn?'

'I shall not eat. We will walk.'

They crossed the road and passed under trees.

'My mother was to have called on the Miss Duvidneys. They left
hurriedly; I think it was unanticipated by Nesta. I venture... you
pardon the liberty... she allows me to entertain hopes. Mr. Radnor, I am
hardly too bold in thinking... I trust, in appealing to you... at least
I can promise!

'Mr. Sowerby, you have done my daughter the honour to ask her hand in
marriage.'

He said: 'I have,' and had much to say besides, but deferred: a blow was
visible. The father had been more encouraging to him than the mother.

'You have not known of any circumstance that might cause hesitation in
asking?'

'Miss Radnor?'

'My daughter:--you have to think of your family.'

'Indeed, Mrs. Radnor, I was coming to London tomorrow, with the consent
of my family.'

'You address me as Mrs. Radnor. I have not the legal right to the name.'

'Not legal!' said he, with a catch at the word.

He spun round in her sight, though his demeanour was manfully rigid.

'Have I understood, madam...?'

'You would not request me to repeat it. Is that your horse the man is
leading?'

'My horse: it must be my horse.'

'Mount and ride back. Leave me: I shall not eat. Reflect, by yourself.
You are in a position of one who is not allowed to decide by his
feelings. Mr. Radnor you know where to find.'

'But surely, some food? I cannot have misapprehended?'

'I cannot eat. I think you have understood me clearly.'

'You wish me to go?'

'I beg.'

'It pains me, dear madam.'

'It relieves me, if you will. Here is your horse.'

She gave her hand. He touched it and bent. He looked at her. A surge
of impossible questions rolled to his mouth and rolled back, with the
thought of an incredible thing, that her manner, more than her words,
held him from doubting.

'I obey you,' he said.

'You are kind.'

He mounted horse, raised hat, paced on, and again bowing, to one of the
wayside trees, cantered. The man was gone; but not from Nataly's vision
that face of wet chalk under one of the shades of fir