"My brother says you have a very pleasant place."
There was no answer at all this time. Winthrop gave it up as a bad business.
It had grown nearly dark. She hurried on, as much as was consistent with a pace perfectly steady. About half a mile from the village she came to a full stop, and looked towards him, almost for the first time.
"You can leave me now. I can see the light in the windows."
"Not yet," said Winthrop smiling — "Mr. Glanbally would hardly think I had done my duty."
"Mr. Glanbally needn't trouble himself about me! He has nothing to do with it. This is far enough."
"I must go a little further."
She started forward again, and a moment after hardly made her own words good. They encountered a large drove of cattle, that spread all over the road. Little independence plainly faltered here and was glad to walk behind her guard, till they had passed quite through. They came then to the iron gate of her grounds.
"You needn't come any further," she said. "Thank you."
And as she spoke she opened and shut the gate in his face. Winthrop turned about and retraced his steps homeward, to read his brother's letter. It was read by his little end of candle after he went up to bed at night.