I was not three yards from the two women who, though they had been my companions for such a short time, had really, as I thought, become my friends.

Clara's face was turned full upon me now, but she also did not seem to see me, though I know I was trying to catch her eye with an appealing look.

I turned to Ellen, and she _did_ seem to recognise me for an instant; but her bright face turned sad directly, and she shook her head with a mournful look, and the next moment all consciousness of my presence had faded from her face.
I felt lonely and sick at heart past the power of words to describe.

I hung about a minute longer, and then turned and went out of the porch again and through the lime-avenue into the road, while the blackbirds sang their strongest from the bushes about me in the hot June evening.
Once more without any conscious effort of will I set my face toward the old house by the ford, but as I turned round the corner which led to the remains of the village cross, I came upon a figure strangely contrasting with the joyous, beautiful people I had left behind in the church.

It was a man who looked old, but whom I knew from habit, now half forgotten, was really not much more than fifty.