Thank God! the high-road is in sight, the cheerful, populous, light high-road.

The trees grow thinner, and the path broadens.

Even from here, we can plainly see the carts and carters.

He stops, and making me stop, too, snatches both my hands.
"Nancy!" he says, harshly, stooping over me, while his eyes flame with a haggard light.

"Yes, I _will_ call you so this once--to me now you _are_ Nancy! I will _not_ call you by _his_ name! Is it _possible_?
You may say that it is my egotism; but, at a moment like this, what is the use of shamming--of polite pretense?
Never, _never_ before in all my life have I given love without receiving it, and I _cannot_ believe"-- (with an accent of passionate entreaty)--"that I do now! Feeling for you as I do, do you feel absolutely _nothing_ for me ?" "_Feel_!" cry I, driven out of all moderation by disgust and exasperation.