" On quitting the Lodge, Wild repaired to his own habitation. They litter up the room. She goes out and comes home. Was she a fool to wish a person of a disposition altogether not pleasing to marry her? Was it not true that he made a game with her very often? Had he not been extremely interfering from the beginning? And had he not kissed her, just when— Her thoughts skidded to a stop. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. She fixed her brilliant eyes upon him. ‘Poor Hilary. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. She tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men. " "Then it was not a dream!" ejaculated Sir Rowland in a hollow voice, and as if speaking to himself.
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