He took her hand, holding his head sideward with a cajoling fondness, wearing the flowing caftan, and a velvet cap which widened out a-top, with puckers. “Well, sweetheart...” he said. “But, you know, I begged you not to use such words to me!”--from her. “What, and I who am such a sweetheart of yours?”--his speech very foreign, yet slangily correct, being, in fact, _all_ slang. “No,” she said, “you spoke different at first, and that is why--But this must be the last, unless you say out clearly now what it is you mean--” “Now, you are too hard. You know I am wild in love with you. And so are you with me--” “_I_?”--with shrinking modesty in her under-looking eyes. “Oh, no--don't have any delusions like that about me, please! You said that you liked me: and as I am in the habit of speaking the truth myself, I thought that--perhaps--But my meeting you, to be frank with you, was for the sake of my brother”. “Well, you are as candid as they make them,” he said, eyeing her with his mild eye. “But what's the matter with your brother? Hard up?” “He's worried about something”. “He must have some harvest-money put away?” “He has something in Reid's Bank at Yarmouth, I believe”. “Well, shall I tell you what's the matter with him? He's _afraid_, your brother. He has refused to wear the cap, and he thinks that I shall be down upon him like a thousand of bricks...But suppose I exempt him, and you and I be friends? That's fair”. “What _do_ you mean?” “Give us _one_--” “Believe me, you talk--!” “Don't let your angry passions rise. I am going to have a kiss off those handsome lips--” Before she could stir he was in the act of the embrace; but it was never accomplished: for he saw her colour fade, heard crackling twigs, a step! as someone emerged from the wood ten yards away--Richard. The thought in Margaret's mind was this: “Father in Heaven, whatever will he think of me here with this Jew?” Hogarth stopped, staring at this couple; did not understand: Margaret should have been home from “class-meeting”...only, he observed her heaving bosom; then twisted about and went, his walk rapid, in his hand a hunting-crop, by which, with a very sure aim, he batted away pebbles from his path, stooping each time. III THE HUNTING-CROP Along the towing-path to the farmhouse. He did not look behind: was like a man who has received a wound, and wonders whence.