But none of these wounds would have so pained and disturbed me had it not been for the merciless gaze which that dark-eyed girl had fixed upon me as she passed me standing in the road.  And if she had gone too far and had done more than her own nature could endure, and if it were she who had been pursuing me, then the wound was more cruel and the smart deeper.  If she believed me a man who would stop at the ringing of her bell, then was I ashamed of myself for having given her that impression.

CHAPTER XIX

BEAUTY, PURITY, AND PEACE

I now proposed to wheel my way in one long stretch to Walford.  I took no interest in rest or in refreshment.  Simply to feel that I had done with this cycle of Cathay would be to me rest, refreshment, and, perhaps, the beginning of peace.

The sun was high in the heavens, and its rays were hot, but still I kept steadily on until I saw a female figure by the road-side waving a handkerchief.  I had not yet reached her, but she had stopped, was looking at me, and was waving energetically.  I could not be mistaken.  I turned and wheeled up in front of her.  It was Mrs. Burton, the mother of the young lady who had injured her ankle on the day when I set out for my journey through Cathay.

“I am so glad to see you,” she said, as she shook hands with me.  “I knew you as soon as my eyes first fell upon you.  You know I have often seen you on the road before we became acquainted with you.  We have frequently talked about you since you were here, and we did not expect you would be coming back so soon.  Mr. Burton has been hoping that he would have a chance to know you better.  He is very fond of school-masters.  He was an intimate friend of Godfrey Chester, who had the school at Walford some years before you came—­when the boys and girls used to go to school together—­and of the man who came afterwards.  He was a little too elderly, perhaps, but Mr. Burton liked him too, and now he hopes that he is going to know you.  But excuse me for keeping you standing so long in the road.  You must come in.  We shall have dinner in ten minutes.  I was just coming home from a neighbor’s when I caught sight of you.”

I declined with earnestness.  Mr. Burton might be a very agreeable man, but I wanted to make no new acquaintances then.  I must keep on to Walford.

But the good lady would listen to no refusals of her hospitality.  I was just in time.  I must need a mid-day rest and something to eat.  She was very sorry that Mr. Burton was not at home.  He nearly always was at home, but to-day he had gone to Waterton.  But if I would be contented to take dinner with her daughter and herself, they would be delighted to have me do so.  She made a motion to open the gate for me, but I opened it for her, and we both went in.  The daughter met us at the top of the garden walk.  She came towards me as a cool summer breeze comes upon a hot and dusty world.  There was, no flush upon her face, but her eyes and lips told me that she was glad to see me before she spoke a word or placed her soft, white hand in mine.  At the first touch of that hand I felt glad that Mrs. Burton had stopped me in the road.  Here was peace.