a pale young lady. But Albert felt
from his own case, from burning jealousy suppressed, and cold neglect
put up with, and all the other many-pointed aches of vain devotion, how
sad must be the state of things when plighted faith was shattered also,
and great ridicule left behind, with only a young girl to face it,
motherless, and having none to stroke dishevelled hair, and coax the
troubles by the firelight. However, this good fellow did the utmost he
could do for her. Love and pity led him into dainty loving kindness; and
when he could not find his way to say the right thing, he did better--he
left her to say it. And so well did he move her courage, in his old
protective way, without a word that could offend her or depreciate
her love, that she for the moment, like a woman, wondered at her own
despair. Also, like a woman, glancing into this and that, instead of
any steadfast gazing, she had wholesome change of view, winning sudden
insight into Albert's thoughts concerning her. Of course, she made
up her mind at once, although her heart was aching so for want of any
tenant, in a moment to extinguish any such presumption. Still, she would
have liked to have it made a little clearer, if it were for nothing else
than to be sure of something.

Albert saw her safely climb the steep and shaly walk that led, among
retentive oak trees, or around the naked gully, all the way from his
lonely cottage to the light, and warmth, and comfort of the peopled
Manor House. And within himself he thought, the more from contrast of
his own cold comfort and untended state:

"Ah! she will forget it soon; she is so young. She will soon get over
that gay frippard's fickleness. To-morrow I will start upon my little
errand cheerfully. After that she will come round; they cannot feel as
we do."

Full of these fond hopes, he started on the following morning with set
purpose to compel the man whom he had once disliked, and now despised
unspeakably, to render some account of despite done to such a family.
For, after all, the dainty viscount was the grandson of a goldsmith, who
by brokerage for the Crown had earned the balls of his coronet. In quest
of this gay fellow went the stern and solid Albert, leaving not a word
about his purpose there behind him, but allowing everybody to believe
what all found out. All found out, as he expected, that he was gone to
sell his hay, perhaps as far as Taunton; and all the parish, looking
forward to great rise o