'Somebody walking over your grave,' said Abel.

'Oh, dunna say that! It be unlucky on my wedding-day,' she cried. As
they climbed the hill she leaned forward, as if straining upwards out
of some deep horror.

When their extraordinary turn-out drew up at the gate, Abel
boisterously flourishing his lilac-laden whip and shouting elaborate
but incomprehensible witticisms, Edward came hastily from the house.
His eyes rested on Hazel, and were so vivid, so brimful of tenderness,
that Abel remained with a joke half expounded.

'My Hazel,' Edward said, standing by the cart and looking up, 'welcome
home, and God bless you!'

'You canna say fairer nor that,' remarked Abel. 'Inna our 'Azel peart?
Dressed up summat cruel inna she?'

Edward took no notice. He was looking at Hazel, searching hungrily for
a hint of the same overwhelming passion that he felt. But he only found
childlike joy, gratitude, affection, and a faint shadow for which he
could not account, and from which he began to hope many things.

If in that silent room upstairs he had come to the opposite decision;
if he had that very day told Hazel what his love meant, by the irony of
things she would have loved him and spent on him the hidden passion of
her nature.

But he had chosen the unselfish course.