“Oh! my God,” he said, with a groan, “forgive me, but this is more than I can bear.” Another second, and they were sobbing in each other’s arms, seeing nothing of a man, with a face made devilish by hate and jealousy, who craned his head forward to watch them from the shelter of a thick bush some few yards away. CHAPTER XXXIX. HUSBAND AND WIFE. When Joan parted from Henry she walked quickly to Monk’s Vale station to catch the train. Arriving just in time, she bought a third-class ticket to Bradmouth, and got into an empty carriage. Already they were starting, when the door opened, and a man entered the compartment. At first she did not look at him, so intent was she upon her own thoughts, till some curious influence caused her to raise her eyes, and she saw that the man was her husband, Samuel Rock. She gazed at him astonished, although it was not wonderful that she should chance to meet a person within a few miles of his own home; but she said nothing. “How do you do, Joan?” Samuel began, and as he spoke, she noticed that his eyes were bloodshot and wild, and his face and hands twitched: “I thought I couldn’t be mistook when I saw you on the platform.” “Have you been following me, then?” she asked. “Well, in a way I have. You see it came about thus: this morning I find that young villain, Willie Hood, driving his donkeys off my foreshore pastures, and we had words, I threatening to pull him, and he giving me his sauce. “Presently he says, ‘You’d be better employed looking after your wife than grudging my dickies a bellyful of sea thistles; for, as we all know, you are a very affectionate husband, and would like to see her down here after she’s been travelling so long for the benefit of her health.’ Then, of course, I ask him what he may chance to mean; for though I have your letter in my pocket saying that you were coming home shortly, I didn’t expect to have the pleasure of seeing you to-day, Joan; and he tells me that he met you last night bound for Monk’s Vale. So you see to Monk’s Vale I come, and there I find you, though what you may happen to be doing, naturally I can’t say.” “I have been to see Mr. Levinger,” she answered; “he is very ill, and telegraphed for me yesterday.” “Did he now! Of course that explains everything; though why he should want to see you it isn’t for me to guess. And now where might you be going, Joan? Is it ‘home, sweet home’ for you?” “I propose to go to Moor Farm, if you find it convenient.”