“I don’t think it is,” said Elizabeth.  “At least it will not be.  You will find that it is not.  It is not the desire of mine, Mr. Landholm.”

There was silence again, a mortified silence on one part, —­ for a little space.

“You will do justice to my motives?” he said.  “I have a right to ask that, for I deserve so much of you.  If my suit had been an ungenerous one, it might better have been pressed years ago than now.”

“Why was it not?” said Elizabeth.

It was the turn of Rufus’s eyes to flash, and his lips and teeth saluted each other vexedly.

“It would probably have been as unavailing then as now,” he replied.  “I bid you good evening, Miss Haye.  I ask nothing from you.  I beg pardon for my unfortunate and inopportune intrusion just now.  I shall annoy you no more.”

Elizabeth returned his parting bow, and then stood quite still where he left her while he walked up the path they had just come down.  She did not move, except her head, till he had passed out of sight and was quite gone; then she seated herself on one of the rocks near which her boat was moored, and clasping her hands round her knees, looked down into the water.  What to find there? —­ the grounds of the disturbance in which her whole nature was working? it lay deeper than that.  It wrought and wrought, whatever it was —­ the colour flushed and the lips moved tremulously, —­ her brow knit, —­ till at last the hands came to her eyes and her face sunk down, and passionate tears, passionate sobbing, told what Elizabeth could tell in no other way.  Tears proud and humble —­ rebelling and submitting.

“It is good for me, I suppose,” she said as she at last rose to her feet, fearing that her handmaid might come to seek her, —­ “my proud heart needed to be brought down in some such way —­ needed to be mortified even to this.  Even to this last point of humiliation.  To have my desire come and mock me so and as it were shake my wish in my face!  But how could he think of me? —­ he could not —­ he is too good —­ and I am a poor thing, that may be made good, I suppose —­”

Tears flowed again, hot and unbidden; for she was walking up to the house and did not want anybody to see them.  And in truth before she was near the house Clam came out and met her half way down the path.

“Miss ‘Lizabeth, —­ I don’ know as you want to see nobody —­”

“Who is there for me to see?”

“Well —­ there’s an arrival —­ I s’pect we’ll have to have supper in the kitchen to-night.”

CHAPTER XV.

With weary steps I loiter on,
Though always under altered skies;
The purple from the distance dies,
My prospect and horizon gone. 
TENNYSON.

Whether or not Elizabeth wanted to see anybody she did not say —­ except to herself.  She walked into the house, fortified with all the muniments of her spirit for the meeting.  It was a quiet one on the whole.  Rose cried a good deal, but Elizabeth bore it without any giving way; saving once or twice a slight twinkling of lip and eye, instantly commanded back.  Rose had all the demonstration to herself, of whatever kind.  Elizabeth sat still, silent and pale; and when she could get free went and ordered supper.