He was tortured with jealous agony.  And it added to his misery that he could not see his way to any hostilities.

Little could easily be driven out of the country, for that matter; he had himself told them both how certainly that would befall him if he was betrayed to the Unions.  But honor and gratitude forbade this line; and Coventry, in the midst of his jealous agony, resisted that temptation fiercely, would not allow his mind even to dwell upon it for a moment.

He recalled all his experiences; and, after a sore struggle of passion, he came to some such conclusion as this:  that Grace would have married him if she had not unexpectedly fallen in with Little, under very peculiar and moving circumstances; that an accident of this kind would never occur again, and he must patiently wear out the effect of it.

He had observed that in playing an uphill game of love the lover must constantly ask himself, “What should I do, were I to listen to my heart?” and having ascertained that, must do the opposite.  So now Mr. Coventry grimly resolved to control his wishes for a time, to hide his jealousy, to hide his knowledge of her deceit, to hide his own anger.  He would wait some months before he again asked her to marry him, unless he saw a change in her; and, meantime, he would lay himself out to please her, trusting to this, that there could be no intercourse by letter between her and a workman, and they were not likely to meet again in a hurry.

It required considerable fortitude to curb his love and jealousy, and settle on this course.  But he did conquer after a hard struggle, and prepared to meet Miss Carden at dinner with artificial gayety.

But she did not appear; and that set Mr. Coventry thinking again.  Why should she have a headache?  He had a rooted disbelief in women’s headaches.  His own head had far more reason to ache, and his heart too.  He puzzled himself all dinner-time about this headache, and was very bad company.

Soon after dinner he took a leaf out of her book, pretended headache, and said he should like to take a turn by himself in the air.

What he really wanted to do was to watch Miss Carden’s windows, for he had all manner of ugly suspicions.

There seemed to be a strong light in the room.  He could see no more.

He walked moodily up and down, very little satisfied with himself, and at last he got ashamed of his own thoughts.

“Oh, no!” he said, “she is in her room, sure enough.”

He turned his back, and strolled out into the road.

Presently he heard the rustle of a woman’s dress.  He stepped into the shade of the firs directly, and his heart began to beat hard.

But it was only Jael Dence.  She came out within a few yards of him.  She had something white in her hand, which, however, she instinctively conveyed into her bosom the moment she found herself in the moonlight.  Coventry saw her do it though.