the woman beloved by Jonathan come so nearly and so dearly to him. For a few hundred yards she had walked under the shelter of his umbrella, and by the last misty lamp they had stood for a moment to say good-by. The slight figure, in its black dripping cloak, and the pale, thoughtful face under the black hood, appealed to him as no beauty radiant with joy and sumptuously clothed could have done. Sombre and sad as the figure was which he watched disappear within Martha Crossley's cottage door, it was a figure full of all noble significance and of every womanly grace to Jonathan Burley.
He plodded on, almost cheerfully, through the dreary downpour, thinking of the admission she had made, that it was as hard for her as for him, and the promise in it, indefinite as it was, made him tread lightly and walk at a far swifter pace than usual. The walk at that hour and in such weather was a bit of self-denial on Jonathan's part, and this night he felt fully repaid for it.
"If I hed been riding, ten to one I'd hev missed her," he said; "and, my word! I'd hev walked all night for the words she spoke to me."
