se came into his
mind; could he not in some way make use of her? He had never yet been
to see her at Budleigh Salterton. That he would do forthwith, and
perchance the visit might supply him with suggestions.

On the morrow he set forth, going by train to Exmouth, and thence by
the coach which runs twice a day to the little seaside town. The
delightful drive, up hill and down dale, with its magnificent views
over the estuary, and its ever-changing wayside beauties, put him into
the best of spirits. About noon, he alighted at the Rolle Arms, the
hotel to which the coach conducts its passengers, and entered to take a
meal. He would call upon the Moorhouses at the conventional hour. The
intervening time was spent pleasantly enough in loitering about the
pebbled beach. A south-west breeze which had begun to gather clouds
drove on the rising tide. By four o'clock there was an end of sunshine,
and spurts of rain mingled with flying foam. Peak turned inland,
pursued the leafy street up the close-sheltered valley, and came to the
house where his friends dwelt.

In crossing the garden he caught sight of a lady who sat in a room on
the ground floor; her back was turned to the window, and before he
could draw near enough to see her better she had moved away, but the
glimpse he had obtained of her head and shoulders affected him with so
distinct an alarm that his steps were checked. It seemed to him that he
had recognised the figure, and if he were right.--But the supposition
was ridiculous; at all events so vastly improbable, that he would not
entertain it. And now he descried another face, that of Miss Moorhouse
herself, and it gave him a reassuring smile. He rang the door bell.

How happy--he said to himself--those men who go to call upon their
friends without a tremor! Even if he had not received that shock a
moment ago, he would still have needed to struggle against the
treacherous beating of his heart as he waited for admission. It was
always so when he visited the Warricombes, or any other family in
Exeter. Not merely in consequence of the dishonest part he was playing,
but because he had not quite overcome the nervousness which so
anguished him in earlier days. The first moment after his entering a
drawing-room cost him pangs of complex origin.

His eyes fell first of all upon Mrs. Moorhouse, who advanced to welcome
him. He was aware of three other persons in the room. The nearest, he
could perceive without regarding her