kept his eyes fixed on Hepworth and seemed to be studying him with a curious interest. Hepworth, however, scarcely noted it—all that day he had been thinking of the morrow, and no other thought had power to turn him. from it. He was so absorbed that he did not even notice that the stranger had not tasted the contents of the glass before him. At last Hepworth shook the ashes out of his pipe and rose to go. The old farmer would have detained him on the plea of drinking another glass. Hepworth declined laughingly. The company then insisted upon his shaking hands with them individually. They pressed his hand with much fervour, wishing him joy. While this ceremony was going on the stranger rose and left the room.
In the inn-yard the ostler was yoking Hepworth's horse. Hepworth came out and began counting the parcels under the seat of the trap, to make sure that all were there, and none missing. While he was thus engaged, the stranger came up.
