conceal my emotion, I buried my face in my hands, and they were
presently bathed in tears. I perceived, on rising, that she had
been crying too: but neither of us spoke; and in silence we betook
ourselves to our repose, creeping more closely together from the
consciousness that we were to part so soon.

But the morning brought a renewal of hope and spirits. I was to
depart early; that the conveyance which took me (a gig, hired from
Mr. Smith, the draper, grocer, and tea-dealer of the village) might
return the same day. I rose, washed, dressed, swallowed a hasty
breakfast, received the fond embraces of my father, mother, and
sister, kissed the cat--to the great scandal of Sally, the maid--
shook hands with her, mounted the gig, drew my veil over my face,
and then, but not till then, burst into a flood of tears. The gig
rolled on; I looked back; my dear mother and sister were still
standing at the door, looking after me, and waving their adieux. I
returned their salute, and prayed God to bless them from my heart:
we descended the hill, and I could see them no more.

'It's a coldish mornin' for you, Miss Agnes,' observed Smith; 'and
a darksome 'un too; but we's happen get to yon spot afore there
come much rain to signify.'

'Yes, I hope so,' replied I, as calmly as I could.

'It's comed a good sup last night too.'

'Yes.'

'But this cold wind will happen keep it off.'