minutes!' The voice of the fly-man sounded hard, grating, and derisive in
their ears.

He had stopped in the middle of the road, and they walked slowly past,
through a great puddle, which drenched their feet.

'Get in, Julia. Shall I open the door?'

'No, no; think of Emily. I cannot, Hubert,--I cannot; it would kill her.'

The conversation paused, and in a long silence they wondered if the fly-man
had heard. Then they walked several yards listening to the tramp of the
hoofs, and then they heard the fly-man strike his horse with the whip. The
animal shuffled into a sort of trot, and as the carriage passed them the
fly-man again raised his arm and again repeated the same phrase, 'Drive you
to the station in ten minutes!' The carriage was her temptation, and Julia
hoped the man would linger no longer. For the promise she had given to
Emily lay like a red-hot coal upon her heart; its fumes rose to her head,
and there were times when she thought they would choke her, and she grew so
sick with the pain of self-denial that she could have thrown herself down
in the wet grass on the roadside, and laid her face on the cold earth for
relief. Would nothing happen? What madness! Night was coming on, and still
they followed the road to Southwater. Rain fell in heavy drops.

'We shall get wet,' she murmured, as if she were answering the fly-man, who
had said again, 'Drive you to the station in ten minutes!' She hated the
man for his persistency.

'Say you will come with me!' Hubert whispered; and all the while the rain
came down heavier.