Miss Everard or Mrs.Bellston, what mattered it ?--she was the same Christine.
He did not go outside the inn all Saturday.

He had no wish to see or do anything but to await the coming interview.

So he smoked, and read the local newspaper of the previous week, and stowed himself in the chimney- corner.

In the evening he felt that he could remain indoors no longer, and the moon being near the full, he started from the inn on foot in the same direction as that of yesterday, with the view of contemplating the old village and its precincts, and hovering round her house under the cloak of night.
With a stout stick in his hand he climbed over the five miles of upland in a comparatively short space of time.

Nicholas had seen many strange lands and trodden many strange ways since he last walked that path, but as he trudged he seemed wonderfully like his old self, and had not the slightest difficulty in finding the way.