"Drive? They told me it was three-and-twenty miles, by railway, from
the station to my place--let alone the distance from this inn to the
station."

"What does the distance matter? Mr. Brinkworth, you can't possibly stay
here!"

A second flash of lightning crossed the window; the roll of the thunder
came nearer. Even Arnold's good temper began to be a little ruffled by
Anne's determination to get rid of him. He sat down with the air of a
man who had made up his mind not to leave the house.

"Do you hear that?" he asked, as the sound of the thunder died away
grandly, and the hard pattering of the rain on the window became audible
once more. "If I ordered horses, do you think they would let me have
them, in such weather as this? And, if they did, do you suppose the
horses could face it on the moor? No, no, Miss Silvester--I am sorry to
be in the way, but the train has gone, and the night and the storm have
come. I have no choice but to stay here!"

Anne still maintained her own view, but less resolutely than before.
"After what you have told the landlady," she said, "think of the
embarrassment, the cruel embarrassment of our position, if you stop at
the inn till to-morrow morning!"

"Is that all?" returned Arnold.

Anne looked up at him, quickly and angrily. No! he was quite unconscious
of having said any thing that could offend her. His rough masculine
sense broke its way unconsciously through all the little feminine