Of course he saw it all—desire in her part to atone for what he had done for her sake. Did not the woman say she had nursed him through an illness? Yes, it was all plain—Bryda was lost to him for ever.
He could not make up his mind to see her, but he would like to see Betty, and so he walked on slowly towards his mother's house.
He felt more like a man in a dream as he passed all the familiar objects on the road—all associated with the love of his whole life.
A high gig passed him at a quick trot. Looking up, he recognised his brother, his red hair gleaming in the sunshine; but he did not see him, or, if he saw him, did not recognise him.
'He looks prosperous, anyhow,' Jack thought, as he looked back at the cart wheeling swiftly down the road. The children at a few cottage doors looked up from their play to gaze at the traveller. 'They don't know me. No one knows,' he thought bitterly. Then he remembered that the children of ten years ago were men and women now. 'How could these little things know him? Betty won't know me,' he said, 'like as not. Well, I must see her. I must hear what she can tell me, and then I shall be off again. I could never, never look on her face—the wife of that man—never.'
He was at the garden gate of his old home now, against which two large lilac bushes grew, and, now in full blossom, scented the air with their fragrance.
Jack took up his position so that he was shielded from observation by the overhanging boughs of one of the bushes, and looked up the straight path to the house.
Everything was apparently well cared for, and the borders on either side of the path were full of spring flowers. Flowers, too, were in boxes on the ledges of the windows, and the diamond panes of the lattices bright and clear.
Jack noticed all these little details, and the gambols of two grey kittens in the porch, an old dog lying, with his nose on his paws, entirely regardless of his frisky neighbours.
Presently a maid-servant brought out an easy-chair and a cushion, and was followed by two figures—his mother, leaning heavily on the arm of—Betty, her poor head shaking tremulously, and her querulous voice raised in some complaint about the position of the chair.