lucky enough to escape them, and, thanks to his knowledge of the locality, to strike upon an unfrequented path, which soon took him clear of the town and brought him to the open fields.
He had forgotten the direction in which the path led, or he would most probably have avoided it and chosen some other, for there lay Helmingham village directly before him. Hitherto he had carefully avoided even looking towards it, but there it was, under his eyes. At some distance it is true, but still sufficiently near for him, with his knowledge of the place, to recognise every outline. There, away on the horizon, was the school-house, there the church; there, dipping down towards the middle of the High-street, the house which had been so long his father's. What years ago it seemed! There were alterations, too; several newly-built houses, a newly-made road leading, he supposed, to Woolgreaves. Woolgreaves! he could not see the house, he was thankful for that, but he overlooked a portion of the grounds from where he stood, and saw the sun reflected from much sparkling glass, evidently conservatories of recent erection. "She's spending the price for which she sold me!" he muttered to himself.
He crossed a couple of fields, clambered over a hedge, and jumped down into the newly-made road which he had noticed, intending, after pursuing it a short distance, to strike across, leaving Woolgreaves on his right, and make for Helmingham. He could roam about the outskirts of the old place without attracting attention and without any chance of meeting with her. He had gone but a very little way when he heard a sharp, clear, silvery tinkling of little bells, then the noise of horse-hoofs on the hard, dry road, and presently came in sight a little low carriage, drawn by a very perfect pair of iron-grey ponies, and driven by a lady dressed in a sealskin cloak and a coquettish sealskin hat. He knew her in an instant. Marian!
While he was deliberating what to do, whether to remain where he was or jump the hedge and disappear, before he could take any action the pony carriage had neared him, and the ponies were stopped by his side. She had seen him in the distance, and recognised him too; he knew that by the flush that overspread her usually pale face. She was looking bright and well, and far handsomer than he ever remembered her. He had time to notice all that in one glance, before she spoke.
"I am glad of this accidental meeting, Mr. Joyce!" she said, with the slightest tremor in her voice, "for though I had made up my mind to see you I did not see the opportunity."
Walter merely bowed.
"Do you mind walking with me for five minutes? I'll not detain you longer." Walter bowed again. "Thank you, very much. James, follow with the ponies." She stepped out of the carriage with perfect grace and dignity, just touching with the tips of her fingers the arm which Walter, half in spite of himself, held out.
"You will not expect me to act any part in this matter, Mr. Joyce," she said after a moment's pause. "I mean to make no pretence of being astonished at finding you here, in direct opposition to me and mine!"
"No, indeed! that would be time wasted, Mrs. Creswell," said Walter, speaking for the first time. "Opposition to you and yours is surely the thing most likely to be expected in me."
"Exactly! Although at first I scarcely thought you would take the breaking off of our relations in the way you did, I guessed it when you did not write; I knew it of course when you started here, but I was never so certain of your feelings in regard to me as I was last night."
"Last night?"
"Last night! I was present at the Mechanics' Institute, sitting in the gallery with my maid and her brother as escort. I had heard much of your eloquence, and wanted to be convinced. It seems I selected a specially good occasion! You were particularly scathing."
"I spoke what I felt"
"No doubt! you could not have spoken so without having felt all you described, so that I can completely imagine how you feel towards me. But you are a sensible man, as well as a good speaker, and that is why I have determined to apply to you."
"What do you want, Mrs. Creswell?"
"I want you to go out of this place, Mr. Joyce! to take your name off the walls, and your candidature out of the county! I want you to give up your opposition to my husband. You are too strong for him—you personally; not your cause, but you. We know that; the last three days have convinced everybody of that, and you'll win the election if you stop."
Joyce laughed aloud. "I know I shall," he said, his eyes gleaming.
"What then?" said Marian, quietly.
