as the present, but I am inclined to assert that no past time could have
been so good as the present. This seems to be a paradox, but I think I
could explain it very easily. I find, however, that the ladies are looking
as if they wanted to go home, and I am quite ready, Mrs. Armstrong. But
while the ladies put their bonnets on, just let Smith see your schoolroom,
Mr. Bloomfield. As an inhabitant of Purleybridge, I already begin to be
proud of it."

The ladies did go to put on their bonnets. I followed Mr. Bloomfield and
the colonel into the schoolroom, and the curate followed me. But after we
had looked about us and remarked on the things about for five minutes,
finding I had left my handkerchief in the drawing-room, I went back to
fetch it. The door was open, and I saw Adela--no bonnet on her head yet--
standing face to face with Harry. They were alone. I hesitated for a
moment what I should do, and while I hesitated, I could not help seeing
the arm of the doctor curved and half-outstretched, as if it would gladly
have folded about her, and his face droop and droop, till it could not
have been more than half a foot from hers. Now, as far as my seeing this
was concerned, there was no harm done. But behind me came the curate and
the schoolmaster, and they had eyes in their heads, at least equal to
mine. Well, no great harm yet. And just far enough down the stair to see
into the drawing-room, appeared their wives, who could not fail to see the
unconscious pair, at least as well as we men below. Still there was no
great harm done, for Mrs. Cathcart was at home, as I have said. But,
_horresco referens!_ excuse the recondite quotation--at the same moment
the form of the colonel appeared, looking over the heads of all before him
right in at the drawing-room door, and full at the young sinners, who had
heard no sound along the matted passage.

"Here's a go!" said I to myself--not aloud, observe, for it was slang.