Clare hurried along the village street at a pace quite unusual to her; but she had not gone far when she found that she was pursued. She would not look back for the first moment; but, notwithstanding the repugnance in her own mind to turn and speak to him, it was inconsistent to her dignity to be thus followed by her cousin, whom everybody knew. She turned round with the best grace she could muster, and addressed him with her usual manner. “Did you want me?” she said, and slackened her pace that he might come up. “It seems so strange that you should ask,” said Arthur, “Want you? As if I dared tell you half how much---- But never mind! I went to the Pimpernels’ thinking I should be at hand and might have opportunities---- I did not know you were so prejudiced against them. May not I even come to see you while I am there?” “Being there does not matter much,” said Clare, hastily, and then she corrected herself. “Of course, you think me prejudiced and disagreeable,” she said; “but I am as I was brought up. Edgar thinks me dreadfully prejudiced. I dare say they are very nice, and all that; but perhaps it would be as well that you did not come to Arden while you were there.” “Why?” said Arthur, in a low voice. “Why? Oh, I can’t tell why. Because I don’t like it. Because I am cross and testy, and like to contradict you. Because---- But you know it is no use asking. If a woman is not to chose who she will call on, she must be oppressed and trampled down indeed.” “You are concealing your real objection,” said Arthur; and I, who went because I thought---- Why, I met Edgar there! But never mind; of course, it must be as you please. I said I would stay a fortnight. Must I never come near you all that time? It is very hard. And it is harder still that Edgar should have gone away as he did, breaking all our party up. Do you know, I have never been so happy, not all my life?” “I am sure you must be quite as happy now,” said Clare; “and I hope you will be prosperous in everything you may undertake. Edgar, I am sure, would be very glad to hear, and I---- I do so hope, Mr. Arden, that everything you wish will thrive--as you wish----” And here Clare stopped short, breathing quickly, almost overcome by mixture of despite, and self-restraint, and sorrow for herself, which was in her mind. “Do you, indeed?” he said. “That is very, very kind of you. It would be kinder still if you knew--but you don’t care to know. If I should ever remind you of your good wishes--not now, because I dare not, but afterwards--some time--if I should pluck up courage----”