He came towards her along the narrow passage, to the spot where she stood tremulous on the lowest step of the stairs.  A lamp burning on a table revealed her slight figure in black, the warm white of her throat and face, the grace of the bending head, and the brown hair wreathed about it.  He saw her as an exquisite vision in a dim light and shade.  But it was not that which broke down his self-control so much as the pathetic look in her dark eyes, the look of one who is glad, and yet shrinks from her own gladness—­tragically conscious of her own weakness, and yet happy in it.  It touched his heart so profoundly that whether the effect was pain or pleasure he could not have told.  But as he reached the step, moved by an irresistible impulse, he held out his arms, and she melted into them.  For one entrancing instant, he held her close and warm upon his breast, while the world went by.

But the next moment she had slipped away, and was sitting on the step, her face in her hands.

He did not plead or excuse himself.  He just stood by her endeavouring to still and control his pulses—­till at last she looked up.  The lamp shewed her his face, and the passion in it terrified her.  For there had been no passion in her soft and sudden yielding.  Only the instinct of the child that is forsaken and wants comforting, that feels love close to it, and cannot refuse it.

‘There, you see!’ she said, desperately—­’You see—­I must go!’

’No!  It’s I who must go.  Unless ’—­his voice sank almost to a whisper—­’Nelly!—­couldn’t you—­marry me?  You should never, never regret it.’

She shook her head, and as she dropped her face again in her hands he saw a shudder run through her.  At the sight his natural impulse was to let passion have its way, to raise her in his arms again, and whisper to her there in the dark, as love inspired him, his cheek on hers.  But he did not venture.  He was well aware of something intangible and incalculable in Nelly that could not be driven.  His fear of it held him in check.  He knew that she was infinitely sorry for him and tender towards him.  But he knew too that she was not in love with him.  Only—­he would take his chance of that, if only she would marry him.

‘Dear!’ he said, stooping to her, and touching her dark curls with his hand.  ’Let’s call in Hester!  She’s dreadfully wise!  If you were with her I should feel happy—­I could wait.  But it is when I see you so lonely here—­and so sad—­nobody to care for you!—­that I can’t bear it!’

Through the rush of the wind, a sound of someone crossing the yard behind the farm came to their ears.  Nelly sprang to her feet and led the way upstairs.  Farrell followed her, and as they moved, they heard Bridget open the back door and come in.

The little sitting-room was bright with lamp and fire, and Farrell, perceiving that they were no longer to be alone, and momentarily expecting Bridget’s entrance, put impatience aside and began to talk of his drive from Carton.