He instantly expressed utmost solicitation and concern. "I'll come back with you, then. If you like, I'll put in the pony and drive you," he said. But she would neither of these things. "I shall be all right. You go in and have your tea, and don't trouble. I'll get back by the wood path, and you'll find I shall be better to-morrow." "'Tis that flimsy dress that lets the wind through like a net," he said. "The weather's not right for such clothes as you will wear." But she laughed and told him to mind his own business. Then she kissed him on the cheek and went away. He stood doubtful. First he felt moved to follow her, and then he changed his mind. He knew Cora better than she thought he did, and he was aware that at the present moment she felt perfectly well but desired to be alone. He had not missed the significance of Mr. Waite's views on his sweetheart's mind, though he had failed to appreciate Timothy's sly humour at his own expense. Now, therefore, he let Cora have her will and made no further effort to overtake her. He waited only until she looked back, as he knew she would; then he kissed his hand, turned, and departed. She passed along through the forest homeward, and, when hidden in a silent place, dusted a stone and sat down to think. A wild apple tree rose above her, half smothered in a great ivy-tod. But through the darkness of the parasite, infant sprays of bright young foliage sprang and splashed the gloomy evergreen with verdure. Aloft, crowning this gnarled and elbowed crab, burst out a triumphant wreath of pale pink blossom--dainty, diaphanous, and curled. Full of light and pearly purity it feathered on the bough, and its tender brightness was splashed with crimson beads of the flower-buds that waited their time and turn to open. Higher still, dominating the tree, thrust forth a crooked, naked bough or two. They towered, black, dead, and grim above the loveliness of the living thing beneath. From reflections not agreeable, this good sight attracted Cora and turned the tide of her thoughts. Even here the instinct of business dominated any sentiment that might have wakened in another spirit before such beauty. She gazed at it, then rose and plucked a few sprays of the apple-blossom. Next she took off her hat and began to try the effect of the natural flowers therein. Her efforts pleased her not a little. "Lord! What a hand I have for it!" she said aloud. Then, refreshened by this evidence of her skill, she rose and proceeded to Shaugh. "I know one thing," she thought, "and that is, man or no man, I shall always be able to make my living single-handed in a town. 'Tisn't for that I want a husband. And be it as 'twill, when master Ned finds a lot more money coming in, he'd very soon give over crying out at a shop." CHAPTER IV