"I hope that you will be glad to see him," said Miss Le Smyrger.

"Very glad to see him," said Patience, with a bold clear voice; and
then the conversation was again dropped, and nothing further was said
till after Captain Broughton's second arrival in the parish.

Four months had then passed since his departure, and during that time
Miss Woolsworthy had performed all her usual daily duties in their
accustomed course. No one could discover that she had been less
careful in her household matters than had been her wont, less willing
to go among her poor neighbours, or less assiduous in her attentions to
her father. But not the less was there a feeling in the minds of those
around her that some great change had come upon her. She would sit
during the long summer evenings on a certain spot outside the parsonage
orchard, at the top of a small sloping field in which their solitary
cow was always pastured, with a book on her knees before her, but
rarely reading. There she would sit, with the beautiful view down to
the winding river below her, watching the setting sun, and thinking,
thinking, thinking--thinking of something of which she had never
spoken. Often would Miss Le Smyrger come upon her there, and sometimes
would pass by her even without a word; but never--never once did she
dare to ask her of the matter of her thoughts. But she knew the matter
well enough. No confession was necessary to inform her that Patience
Woolsworthy was in love with John Broughton--ay, in love, to the full
and entire loss of her whole heart.

On one evening she was so sitting till the July sun had fallen and
hidden himself for the night, when her father came upon her as he
returned from one of his rambles on the moor. "Patty," he said, "you
are always sitting there now. Is it not late? Will you not be cold?"