His wife had not done badly for a little country girl.  Whilst he prowled about the streets with his burden of disgrace, his blank future, Lilian sat at her ease in a mansion—­doubtless had her carriages, perhaps her livened servants—­associated with important people.  After all, there was something to be said for that appeal to the magistrate, with its consequence of scandal, ruin, to these people who thought themselves so secure from him.  He recovered his mood of last night.

“Boy!”—­an errand-lad was just passing—­“whereabouts is the Court-house?”

He was bidden take a turning within sight and go straight on for about half a mile.

“And I will, too!” he said in his mind.  “She shall suffer for it!”

He turned away and walked for some twenty yards.  Then once more the doubt occurred to him.  He had better go to the bookseller’s and make sure of Mrs. Quarrier’s identity.  Turning to take the opposite direction, he saw some one coming forth from the gates by which he had just stood—­a lady—­and it might be——?

Agitation shook him from head to foot.  Was not that Lilian’s figure, her walk?  She was moving away from him; he must have a glimpse of her face.  Drawing carefully nearer, on the side opposite to hers—­ carefully—­fearfully—­he at length saw her features, then fell back.  Yes, it was Lilian.  Much disguised in that handsome walking-costume, but beyond doubt Lilian.  Still, as of old, she walked with bowed head, modestly.  Who could imagine what she concealed?

His face was moist with perspiration.  Following, he could not take his eyes off her.  That lady was his wife.  He had but to claim her, and all her sham dignity fell to nothing.  But he could not command her obedience.  He had no more power over her will than any stranger.  She might bid him do his worst—­and so vanish with her chosen companion utterly beyond his reach.

Again he thought of the Court-house.  For it was too certain that the sight of him would inspire her only with horror.  Should he not hold her up to infamy?  If he did not, another would; Marks was plainly to be trusted; this day was the last of Mrs. Quarrier’s grandeur.

And to remember that was to pause.  Could he afford to throw away a great opportunity for the sake of malicious satisfaction?

She walked on, and he followed, keeping thirty or forty paces behind her.  He saw at length that she was not going into the town.  The fine morning had perhaps invited her to a country walk.  So much the better; he would wait till they were in a part where observation was less to be feared; then he would speak to her.

Lilian never looked back.  It was indeed the bright sunshine that had suggested a walk out to Pear-tree Cottage, where before noon she would probably find Mrs. Wade among her books.  She felt light of heart.  Within this hour Glazzard would be gone from Polterham.  Four days hence, Denzil would be a Member of Parliament.  Had she no claim to happiness—­she whose girlhood had suffered such monstrous wrong?  Another reason there was for the impulse of joy that possessed her—­a hope once already disappointed—­a voice of nature bidding her regard this marriage as true and eternal, let the world say what it would.