he drew nearer home, as if there some one there for whose respect he
cared even in his half-intoxicated state, or whose feelings he feared to
grieve. His home was exquisitely clean and neat, even in outside
appearance; threshold, window, and windowsill were outward signs of some
spirit of purity within. Will was rewarded for his attention by a bright
glance of thanks, succeeded by a blush of shame, from a young woman of
twenty or thereabouts. She did not speak or second her father's
hospitable invitations to him to be seated. She seemed unwilling that a
stranger should witness her father's attempts at stately sobriety, and
Will could not bear to stay and see her distress. But when the old man,
with many a flabby shake of the hand, kept asking him to come again some
other evening, and see them, Will sought her downcast eyes, and, though
he could not read their veiled meaning, he answered, timidly, "If it's
agreeable to everybody, I'll come, and thank ye." But there was no
answer from the girl, to whom this speech was in reality addressed; and
Will left the house, liking her all the better for never speaking.

He thought about her a great deal for the next day or two; he scolded
himself for being so foolish as to think of her, and then fell to with
fresh vigour, and thought of her more than ever. He tried to depreciate
her: he told himself she was not pretty, and then made indignant answer
that he liked her looks much better than any beauty of them all. He
wished he was not so country-looking, so red-faced, so broad-shouldered;
while she was like a lady, with her smooth, colourless complexion, her
bright dark hair, and her spotless dress. Pretty or not pretty she drew
his footsteps towards her; he could not resist the impulse that made him
wish to see her once more, and find out some fault which should unloose
his heart from her unconscious keeping. But there she was, pure and
maidenly as before. He sat and looked, answering her father at cross-
purposes, while she drew more and more into the shadow of the chimney-