lovers. He should contract no ceremonious observance because she was
the daughter of a poor country parson who would come to him without a
shilling, whereas he stood high in the world's books. He had asked her
to give him all that she had, and that all she was ready to give,
without stint. But the gift must be valued before it could be given or
received, he also was to give her as much, and she would accept it as
beyond all price. But she would not allow that that which was offered
to her was in any degree the more precious because of his outward
worldly standing.

She would not pretend to herself that she thought he would come to her
that day, and therefore she busied herself in the kitchen and about the
house, giving directions to her two maids as though the afternoon would
pass as all other days did pass in that household. They usually dined
at four, and she rarely in these summer months went far from the house
before that hour. At four precisely she sat down with her father, and
then said that she was going up as far as Helpholme after dinner.
Helpholme was a solitary farmhouse in another parish, on the border of
the moor, and Mr. Woolsworthy asked her whether he should accompany
her.

"Do, papa," she said, "if you are not too tired." And yet she had
thought how probable it might be that she should meet John Broughton on
her walk. And so it was arranged; but just as dinner was over, Mr.
Woolsworthy remembered himself.

"Gracious me," he said, "how my memory is going. Gribbles, from
Ivybridge, and old John Poulter, from Bovey, are coming to meet here by
appointment. You can't put Helpholme off till to-morrow?"