Joan grew crimson to the very roots of her hair, and turned a look on Massingbred, as though to say, “You ought to answer this for me.” But Jack was too deep in his own thoughts even to notice the appeal.
“I can scarcely ask you to come to me,” said Kate, quickly perceiving a difficulty, “for I 'm not even a visitor at Cro' Martin.”
“I 'm sure I hope it 's not the last time we 'll meet, miss; but maybe,”—she faltered, and a heavy tear burst forth, and rolled slowly along her cheek,—“maybe you oughtn't to come and see me.”
Kate pressed her hand affectionately, without speaking, and they parted.
“Is Joan gone?” asked Massingbred, raising his head from an attitude of deep revery. “When did she leave us?”
“There she goes yonder,” said Kate, pointing. “I fear me her spirits are not as light as her footsteps. Are her people very poor?”
“Her father was a herd, I believe,” said he, carelessly; “but she does n't live at home.”
“Is she married, then?”
“I 'm not sure that she is; but at least she believes that she is.”
“Poor thing!” said Kate, calmly, while, folding her arms, she continued to gaze after the departing figure of the country girl. “Poor thing!” repeated she once more, and turned to walk homewards.