vague surmises, of apprehensions, of forecasts, swept across her consciousness. The blood forsook her cheeks. But that the old man began to move away, she could have remained thus for many minutes, struggling with that new, half-understood thing which was taking possession of her life.
The disappointment of the day was no longer simple, and such as a child experiences. Nor ever from this hour onwards would Jane regard things as she had been wont to do, with the simple feelings of childhood.
Snowdon walked on in silence until the street they had visited was far behind them. Jane was accustomed to his long fits of musing, but now she with difficulty refrained from questioning him. He said at length:
“Jane, I’m afraid we shall have to give up our day in the country.”
She assented readily, gladly; all the joy had gone out of the proposed excursion, and she wished now to be by herself in quietness.
“I think I’ll let you go home alone,” Snowdon continued. “I want to see Mr.
