When, wearied out at length, he threw himself into bed, it was only to exchange bad for worse; for on such occasions sleep is worse than wakefulness, it is so full of dreams, big with coming pain.  Shortly after dawn he got up again, and went into the garden and listened to the birds singing their matin hymn.  But he was in no mood for the songs of birds, however sweet, and it was a positive relief to him when old Jakes emerged, his cross face set in the gladness of the morning, like a sullen cloud in the blue sky, and began to do something to his favourite bed of cabbages.  Not that Arthur was fond of old Jakes; on the contrary, ever since the coffin-stand conversation, which betrayed, he considered, a malevolent mind, he detested him personally; but still he set a fancy value on him because he was connected with the daily life of his betrothed.

And then at last out came Angela, having spied him from behind the curtains of her window, clothed in the same white gown in which he had first beheld her, and which he consequently considered the prettiest of frocks.  Never did she look more lovely than when she came walking towards him that morning, with her light, proud step, which was so full of grace and womanly dignity.  Never had he thought her more sweet and heart-compelling, than when, having first made sure that Jakes had retreated to feed his pigs, she shyly lifted her bright face to be greeted with his kiss.  But she was quick of sympathy, and had learned to read him like an open page, and before his lips had fairly fallen on her own she knew that things had gone amiss.

“Oh, what is it, Arthur?” she said, with a little pant of fear.

“Be brave, dear, and I will tell you.”  And in somewhat choky tones, he recounted word for word what had passed between her father and himself.

She listened in perfect silence, and bore the blow as a brave woman should.  When he had finished, she said, with a little tremor in her voice: 

“You will not forget me in a year, will you, Arthur?”

He kissed her by way of answer, and then they agreed to go together to Philip, and try to turn him from his purpose.

Breakfast was not a cheerful meal that day, and Pigott, noticing the prevailing depression, remarked, with sarcasm, that they might, for all appearance to the contrary, have been married for twenty years; but even this spirited sally did not provoke a laugh.  Ten o’clock, the hour that was to decide their fate, came all too soon, and it was with very anxious hearts that they took their way to the study.  Philip, who was seated in residence, appeared to view Angela’s arrival with some uneasiness.

“Of course, Angela,” he said, “I am always glad to see you, but I hardly expected——­”

“I beg your pardon for intruding, father,” she answered; “but, as this is very important to me, I thought that I had better come too, and hear what is settled.”

As it was evident that she meant to stay, Philip did not attempt to gainsay her.