‘But he has had a good education, hasn’t he?’

’Pretty good, I suppose.  He confessed to us, though, that he couldn’t pronounce French words.’

‘It’s quite certain,’ said Mrs. Hood, ’he wouldn’t have invited you in if you had been alone.’

‘Certain enough,’ was the reply, in a tone wholly disinterested.  ’But it must have been just a fancy, a whim.  Things of that kind don’t happen nowadays.’

‘Not to us, at all events,’ murmured the other dejectedly.

‘Well, there must come what will,’ she added, leaning her head back once more, and losing interest in the subject.  ’I hope nothing and expect nothing.’

Alas, these two sitting together in the dull little room, speaking in disjointed phrases of despondency, exchanging no look, no word of mutual kindness, had they not once loved each other, with the love of youth and hope?  Had it not once been enough to sit through long evenings and catch with eagerness each other’s lightest word?  Time had robbed them of youth, and the injustice of the world’s order had starved love to less than a shadow of itself, to a more habit of common suffering.  Tender memories were buried in the grave of children whom the resources of ever so modest a fortune would have kept alive; the present was a mere struggle to support existence, choking the impulses of affection.  One would not murmur at the kindly order of life, whereby passion gives place to gentle habitudes, and the fiery soul of youth tames itself to comely gravity; but that love and joy, the delights of eager sense and of hallowed aspiration, should be smothered in the foul dust of a brute combat for bread, that the stinted energies of early years should change themselves to the blasted hopes of failing manhood in a world made ill by human perverseness, this is not easily—­it may be, not well—­borne with patience.  Put money in thy purse; and again, put money in thy purse; for, as the world is ordered, to lack current coin is to lack the privileges of humanity, and indigence is the death of the soul.

CHAPTER VI

A VISITOR BY EXPRESS

It had been arranged that Emily should receive news from Wilfrid by the first post on Monday morning.  Her father left home at half-past eight, and Emily, a little ashamed at so deceiving him, went into the town at the same time on pretence of a desire to share his walk.  Taking leave of him as soon as the mill was in sight, she walked towards the post-office.  At this early hour there was no one before the counter:  she overcame her nervousness and asked for letters.  That which she expected was given to her, and at the same time a telegram.

The sight of the telegram agitated her.  Drawing aside, she opened it at once.  Wilfrid had despatched it the previous night from London.  ’I shall be in Dunfield at one o’clock to-morrow.  Please leave a note for me at the post-office, appointing any place of meeting at any time you like.  I shall find the place from your description.’