At other times an unutterable heart-sickness possessed him to see her once more, to hear her voice, to press his lips, if he dared, to her pale cheeks; to discover whether she would suffer him to hold her in his arms for one moment only.

He longed to hear from her lips what had happened at home since he fled from it six months ago; what she had done, and was going to do, supposing that he were not arrested and brought to justice.

Would she forgive him?
would she listen to his pleas and explanations?
He feared that she would hate him for the shame he had brought upon her.

Yet there was a possibility that she might pity him, with a pity so much akin to love as that with which the angels look down upon sinful human beings.
Every day brought the solution of his doubts nearer.

The rains of autumn had begun, and fell in torrents, driving him to any shelter he could find, to brood there hour after hour upon these hopes and fears.