Vexation stood in the feminine pair as its owner drew back her head; she had been tempted to look out by the sound of the voices below, and in that instant her unwelcome lover had seen her. She had spent a great deal of time up-stairs that day, her ears strained for any sound of an arrival. She wore her walking-boots and her hat lay within reach, so that she might run out as she had done before. It was not perhaps the most ennobling way of meeting a difficulty, but it had the merit of being extremely safe.
For very shame she could not escape now. She grew quite hot, anger with herself for her carelessness, with circumstances, with her uncle, all welled up in her, and gave her some of the feelings that a rat must have when there is nothing but the bare corner behind him and a dog in front.
Harry went up to the house and found the Vicar in the orchard.
“I expected you,” said the old man as the young one began rapidly to explain his presence.
“Mr. Lewis, let me see Isoline.”
The Vicar took him by the arm. “You had much better not, believe me,” he said; “it will do no good, Harry, and it will give you both pain.”
“If you think I will ever consent to give her up, you mistake me. You believe you are doing right, I know, but it is no use, sir. I love her and she loves me, and we will never let anything divide us.”
The Vicar looked into the honest, excited face, a face full of trust without misgiving or concealment.
“I must see her, sir, indeed I must,” Harry continued. “If you were I, you would say the same.”
“If I were you,” said the Vicar, “I should do exactly as you are doing. I haven’t always been an old man, and I sometimes fear I have never been a wise one. You can see her, Harry, but if you would only accept this quietly you would spare yourself. She will tell you what I am telling you now; she is an obedient girl, and she knows what your father and I think.”