Presently the service was over, and Tom made his way towards the vestibule of the church. Scores of hands were held out to him, hundreds of greetings were offered to him. Many congratulated him on his bravery, and on his distinction.
Then suddenly Tom's heart ceased to beat, for standing before him was
Alice Lister.
Tom felt his tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth. He could not speak, while Alice seemed almost as much wrought upon as he.
He looked around as if in expectation of seeing Harry Briarfield, but
Harry was nowhere present. What did it mean?
Afterwards Tom wondered at his temerity; wondered that he should dare to speak to her at all. But some power which was stronger than himself compelled him to do so. He held out his hand to her.
"How are you, Alice?" he said.
Alice gave him her hand, but did not reply, save that her fingers trembled in his.
A thousand hopes, fancies, and fears flashed through his mind and heart; then Alice shyly lifted her eyes to his.
"May I walk home with you, Alice?" he stammered.
"Yes, if you will, Tom," and the two walked away, side by side.