should hear it. (I had even, poor fool that I was! walked heavily past
her chamber-door just now, that she might hear me go.)

When all were gone away at last, I waited for my Cousin Tom, and then
went with him into the parlour; where I told him very briefly all that
had passed, with the same dignity that I had set myself to preserve. I
even spoke in a high sort of voice, to shew my self-command and
detachment. My Cousin Tom appeared as if thunderstruck.

"Good God!" said he. "The minx! to behave like that!"

"It is no longer any concern of mine," I said. "For myself I shall go
back to town to-morrow."

"But--" began he.

"My dear Cousin," I said, "it is the only thing that I can do--to set to
work again. Mistress Dorothy must recover herself alone. I could not
expect her to tolerate such a personage as I must appear in her eyes."

"But you will came back again," said Tom. "And I'll talk to the chit as
she deserves."

I preserved my lofty attitude.

"That again," said I, "is no concern of mine. And as for coming back,
when Mistress Dorothy has found her a husband whom she can respect--we
may perhaps consider it."

He sat very silent for a while after that; and I know now, though I did