She turned away and ascended the steps with her heart filled nearly to bursting with grief, indignation and fear. That he should let her take that long, dark, dangerous walk alone! it was incredible! she could scarcely realize it, or believe it! Her unusually excited feelings lent wings to her feet, and she walked swiftly for about a quarter of a mile, and then was forced to pause and take breath. And then every feeling of indignation and fear was lost in that of sorrow, that she had wounded his feelings, and left him in anger. And Marian dropped her face into her open hands and wept. A step breaking through the brushwood made her start and tremble. She raised her head with the attitude of one prepared for a spring and flight. It was so dark she could scarcely see her hands before her, but as the step approached, a voice said: "Fear nothing, Marian, I have not lost sight of you since you left me," and Thurston came up to her side. With a glad smile of surprise Marian turned to greet him, holding out her hand, expecting him to draw it through his arm and lead her on. But no, he would not touch her hand. Lifting his hat slightly, he said: "Go forward if you please to do so, Marian. I attend you." Marian went on, and he followed closely. They proceeded in silence for some time. Now that she knew that he had not left her a moment alone in the woods, she felt more deeply grieved at having so mortified and offended him. At last she spoke: "Pray, do not be angry with me, dear Thurston." "I am not angry that I know of, fair one; and you do me too much honor to care about my mood. Understand me once for all. I am not a Dr. Grimshaw, in any phase of that gentleman's character. I am neither the tyrant who will persecute you to exact your attention, nor yet the slave who will follow and coax and whine and wheedle for your favor. In either character I should despise myself too much," he answered, coolly. "Thurston, you are deeply displeased, or you would not speak so, and I am very, very sorry," said Marian in a tremulous voice. "Do not distress yourself about me, fair saint! I shall trouble you no more after this evening!" What did he mean? What could Thurston mean? Trouble her no more after this evening! She did not understand the words, but they went through her bosom like a sword. She did not reply--she could not. She wished to say: "Oh, Thurston, if you could read my heart--how singly it is devoted to you--how its thoughts by day, and dreams by night are filled with histories and images of what I would be, and do or suffer for you--of how faithfully I mean to love and serve you in all our coming years--you would not mistake me, and get angry, because you would know my heart." But these words Marian could not have uttered had her life depended on it. "Go on, Marian, the moor is no safer than the forest; I shall attend you across it." And they went on until the light from Old Field Cottage was visible. Then Marian said: