With that feeling throbbing as if it were a pulse, and walking at his utmost speed, he speedily left the streets, and found himself once more by the edge of the river, in the radiant evening. Since he had left Mr Lee he had not stopped to think; he felt pursued, breathless, without even a wish to rest. But now, from very fatigue, he stood still by the river. And, as he paused, he remembered that the Squire had been kind to him. Oh, Mr Mallory would never forgive him, never, if he were to find out that he had been disobeyed, or if he were once to discover that his messenger had been talking to other people about his private letters. He was so terrible when he was offended, Mr Mallory was. And he was himself the Squire’s favourite, all the servants said he was. What was Miss Gillan to him, or what was he to Miss Gillan? He was not called upon to disobey the Squire for her. He walked on again. He felt calm, happy, his mind was at rest. And then, all at once, a reaction seized him once more. Oh, oh, what a fool he was--the reaction seized him suddenly--to make such a fuss about a little thing, a small thing, a trifle, that no one would care about. Why, if Mr Mallory were to hear that he had been to the Manor Farm, there wouldn’t be anything so very bad in that .... he would never know .... that Nat had gone there to show his letter..... The last thought had a sting from which there was no escape, for Nat had been taught by his mother to be fastidiously honourable. Only, if she did see his letter what was the harm in that? it was only the outside of it that she _wished_ to see--it was only an idea, a fancy that she had, she would not do anything to bring him into disgrace. ‘She _likes_ me,’ thought Nat, and the blood rushed to his face; ‘and I like her too .... and I must do this for her.’ .... So up and down, literally up and down he paced, and the beating of his heart went up and down with him. And then, suddenly, with a quick, decided movement, he left off reflecting, and walked onwards steadily. There are few things more strange, if we come to think of it, than the peace which possesses us when we have decided to do wrong; it is to be accounted for, I suppose, by the cessation of conflict which appears to be a benefit at whatever cost it is obtained. Nat was a lad, and disturbed about a trifle, or at least by that which may appear such to us, but in those moments he experienced the calmness which has been felt by wrong-doers more guilty than himself. It was only when at length he drew near the village that he began to waver again, as we have seen, and to ask himself whether he would pursue the lower road, or would take the turn that led to the grey house of the Squire. He drew closer, closer; he saw in the golden evening the dark trees on the hill, the red chapel on his left .... he reached the turn .... for one instant he stood still. For one instant; and then, with steady footsteps he pursued his way through the lower village-street.