“And it seems to me that it an’t unneeded,” says I. “See you here, cousin, if you find it irksome to be without any fellow[136] save Mrs Skipwith, I will endeavour to seek out some young damsel of agreeable conditions that shall bear you company, and assist you to divert yourself; but since you are in my house, I must beg that you won’t walk abroad unless attended suitably to your quality. Sure you must perceive that this is only right.” But Dorothy snatched her hand from mine, and walked on with her head held high, as she had done when we had last passed through this wood together. “’Tis very courteously done in you, to remind me of my situation as a dependent in your house, cousin,” she cried, and stopped as though too angry to continue. “Cousin,” says I, “your are unjust toward me. I desire naught save your honour and advantage,” but she would not vouchsafe neither to answer me nor speak to me, and we came home in silence. And all that evening would she scarce say a word to me, nor even look at me. And though you would think that I should rejoice in this, inasmuch as ’twould enable me the more easily to conquer my love for her, yet it wan’t so, but I must needs offer all the courtesies in my power, and follow her with my eyes, silently demanding pardon for my unwitting offending of her. But all this moved her not a whit, so that I went to bed very unhappy, but loving her more than ever. And the next day, which was prodigious wet and stormy, Dorothy busied herself all the morning with the maids up-stairs, scrubbing and cleaning and doing other such things, and raising such a noise and dust as that she was fain at dinner-time to abide in her own chamber, saying that she was attacked with a fit of the megrims.[137] And after dinner, the weather mending somewhat, I rid out after my usual fashion, with Loll Duss behind me, very unhappy by reason of the damp, and I much more unhappy, by reason of the turmoil in my mind. But coming in after dark, prodigious weary and miserable, I found an agreeable surprise to await me, for casting myself with a sigh upon the oaken settle beside the great fire in the hall, thinking no one to be near me, I did behold Dorothy sitting opposite to me in the shadow, when my eyes grew accustomed to the light. “You han’t been abroad to-day, cousin?” said I. “No,” said she. “Mrs Skipwith is gone to drink a dish of _thea_ with Mrs Sternhold, and Miles is attending upon her.” “I’ll wait upon you with pleasure, cousin, whithersoever you may desire,” says I, “and esteem it an honour if you’ll accept of my services.” “I thank you, cousin,” says she, “but I han’t no list to walk abroad to-night.”