"There," he said to himself, as he put the letter into the envelope, "she may think it too long, but I am sure she would not have been pleased had I not written at all."
That afternoon Joshua was at the rectory, having just trotted over after business hours at the brewery because of some special word which had to be whispered to Molly, and Harry put himself in his way as he went out to get on his horse in the stable-yard. "Joshua," he said, "I know that I owe you an apology."
"What for?"
"You have been awfully good to me about the horses, and I have been very ungracious."
"Not at all."
"But I have. The truth is, I have been made thoroughly miserable by circumstances, and, when that occurs, a man cannot pick himself up all at once. It isn't my uncle that has made me wretched. That is a kind of thing that a man has to put up with, and I think that I can bear it as well as another. But an attack has been made upon me which has wounded me."
"I know all about it."
"I don't mind telling you, as you and Molly are going to hit it off together. There is a girl I love, and they have tried to interfere with her."
"They haven't succeeded?"
"No, by George! And now I'm as right as a trivet. When it came across me that she might have—might have yielded, you know,—it was as though all had been over. I ought not to have suspected her."