When she saw me she stopped, and I entered hurriedly, and addressed her.  But I could say nothing better than the merest commonplaces.  For her old manner, which I had almost forgotten, a certain coldness shadowed with haughtiness, whose influence I had strongly felt when I began to make her acquaintance, had returned.  I cannot make my reader understand how this could be blended with the sweetness in her face and the gentleness of her manners; but there the opposites were, and I could feel them both.  There was likewise a certain drawing of herself away from me, which checked the smallest advance on my part; so that—­I wonder at it now, but so it was—­after a few words of very ordinary conversation, I bade her good morning and went away, feeling like “a man forbid”—­as if I had done her some wrong, and she had chidden me for it.  What a stone lay in my breast!  I could hardly breathe for it.  What could have caused her to change her manner towards me?  I had made no advance; I could not have offended her.  Yet there she glided up the road, and here stood I, outside the gate.  That road was now a flowing river that bore from me the treasure of the earth, while my boat was spell-bound, and could not follow.  I would run after her, fall at her feet, and intreat to know wherein I had offended her.  But there I stood enchanted, and there she floated away between the trees; till at length she turned the slow sweep, and I, breathing deep as she vanished from my sight, turned likewise, and walked back the dreary way to the village.  And now I knew that I had never been miserable in my life before.  And I knew, too, that I had never loved her as I loved her now.

But, as I had for the last ten years of my life been striving to be a right will, with a thousand failures and forgetfulnesses every one of those years, while yet the desire grew stronger as hope recovered from every failure, I would now try to do my work as if nothing had happened to incapacitate me for it.  So I went on to fulfil the plan with which I had left home, including, as it did, a visit to Thomas Weir, whom I had not seen in his own shop since he had ordered me out of it.  This, as far as I was concerned, was more accidental than intentional.  I had, indeed, abstained from going to him for a while, in order to give him time to come round; but then circumstances which I have recorded intervened to prevent me; so that as yet no advance had been made on my part any more than on his towards a reconciliation; which, however, could have been such only on one side, for I had not been in the least offended by the way he had behaved to me, and needed no reconciliation.  To tell the truth, I was pleased to find that my words had had force enough with him to rouse his wrath.  Anything rather than indifference!  That the heart of the honest man would in the end right me, I could not doubt; in the meantime I would see whether a friendly call might not improve the state of affairs.  Till he yielded to the voice within him, however, I could not expect that our relation to each other would be quite restored.  As long as he resisted his conscience, and knew that I sided with his conscience, it was impossible he should regard me with peaceful eyes, however much he might desire to be friendly with me.