But when Charity left the room to see old Vane Etherage in the study, a strange silence fell upon Tom. You could hear each stitch of her tambour-work. You could hear Tom's breathing. He fancied she might hear the beating of his heart. He was ashamed of his silence. He could have been eloquent had he spoken from that loaded heart. But he dare not, and failing this he must be silent. By this time Tom was always thinking of Agnes Etherage, and wondering at the perversity of fate. He was in love. He could not cheat himself into any evasion of that truth--a tyrant truth that had ruled him mercilessly; and there was she pining for love of quite another, and bestowing upon him, who disdained it, all the treasure of her heart, while even a look would have been cherished with gratitude by Sedley. What was the good of his going up every day to Hazelden, Tom Sedley thought, to look at her, and talk to Charity, and laugh, and recount entertaining gossip, and make jokes, and be agreeable, with a heavy and strangely suffering heart, and feel himself every day more and more in love with her, when he knew that the sound of Cleve's footsteps, as he walked by, thinking of himself, would move her heart more than all Tom Sedley, adoring her, could say in his lifetime? What a fool he was! Before Cleve appeared she was fancy free; no one else in the field, and his opportunities unlimited. He had lapsed his time, and occasion had spread its wings and flown. "What beautiful sunshine! What do you say to a walk on the Green?" said Tom to Charity, and listening for a word from Agnes. She raised her pretty eyes and looked out, but said nothing. "Yes. I think it would be very nice; and there is no wind. What do _you_ say, Agnes?" "I don't know. I'm lazy to-day, I think, and I have this to finish," said Agnes. "But you ought to take a walk, Agnes; it would do you good; and Thomas Sedley and I are going for a walk on the Green." "Pray, do," pleaded Tom, timidly. Agnes smiled and shook her head, looking out of the window, and, making no other answer, resumed her work. "You are _very_ obstinate," remarked Charity. "Yes, and lazy, like the donkeys on the Green, where you are going; but you don't want me particularly--I mean _you_, Charrie--and Mr. Sedley, I know, will excuse me, for I really feel that it would tire me to-day. It would tire me to death," said Agnes, winding up with an emphasis. "Well, _I'll_ go and put on my things, and if you _like_ to come you _can_ come, and if you don't you can stay where you are. But I wish you would not be a fool. It is a beautiful day, and nothing on earth to prevent you." "I don't like the idea of a walk to-day. I know I should feel tired immediately, and have to bring you back again; and I've really grown interested in this little bit of work, and I feel as if I must finish it to-day." "Why _need_ you finish it to-day? You _are_ such a goose, Agnes," said Charity, marching out of the room.