Once, as he walked, he looked back,--and saw the woman he coveted now more than ever, standing erect in the porch, tall, fair and loyal in her attitude, looking like some proud empress who had just dismissed an unworthy vassal.

A farmer's daughter! and she had refused Mr.Dyceworthy with disdain! He had much ado to prevent himself shaking his fist at her! "The lofty shall be laid low, and the stiff-necked shall be humbled," he thought, as with a vicious switch of his stick he struck off a fragrant head of purple clover.

"Conceited fool of a girl! Hopes to be 'my lady' does she?
She had better take care!" Here he stopped abruptly in his walk as if a thought had struck him,--a malignant joy sparkled in his eyes, and he flourished his stick triumphantly in the air.

"I'll have her yet!" he exclaimed half-aloud.
"I'll set Lovisa on her!" And his countenance cleared; he quickened his pace like a man having some pressing business to fulfill, and was soon in his boat, rowing towards Bosekop with unaccustomed speed and energy.
Meanwhile Thelma stood motionless where he had left her,--she watched the retreating form of her portly suitor till he had altogether disappeared,--then she pressed one hand on her bosom, sighed, and laughed a little.

Glancing at the crucifix so lately restored to her, she touched it with her lips and fastened it to a small silver chain she wore, and then a shadow swept over her fair face that made it strangely sad and weary.