CHAPTER XVIII.

MISS MILBURN EXPRESSES APPROVAL.

Ir was with profound distress that Nelly Conway had received and rejected the offer of Milburn's hand, for she had no doubt that his heart would have gone with it. It would have pained her to have so behaved to any honest young fellow, but, in truth, she had a great liking for this one, though it had no touch of love about it. It was plain to her that her departure from Sandy beach, on which she had so long determined, could be no longer delayed if Mr. Milburn should stay on there; and though, indeed, that was not probable, for he would be sure to feel the delicacy of her position, and hasten to relieve her of his presence, yet what right had she-who in any case had meant to go-to drive him to such a step? That very day, therefore, without stating her immediate reasons for her resolution, she informed her kind host and hostess of her intention to go to town at once, and begin the life of independence she had always determined upon. There was a terrible scene of tears and tender pleading, which would have carried conviction, had she needed it, of how dear she had become to both these excellent people.

It'll go near to break my old woman's heart,' said Mr. Wardlaw, in a tone that showed his own was not quite bomb-proof.

VOL. II.

'Oh, never mind me,' sobbed his wife; when I'm dead and gone she'll be sorry, and I dare say will come back to you, John, and make the tea, and put out the flowers, and play toons to you on the piano, just as she used to do.' The recollection of these tender services, which were no longer, it seemed, to be performed by her darling, utterly overcame the good lady.

I am sorry that any poor thing we were able to do for you,' said Mr. Wardlaw simply, 'should have the sense of obligation about it. We didn't-neither of us-mean it to be so, Miss Nelly, I do assure you.'

Oh, I am sure you didn't, and I never did feel it so,' cried the poor girl. It is your very goodness and kindness that make me want to go.'

'Then we'll be very hard and grumpy, won't we, missus? We'll do our very best to be unkind to you, indeed, though just at first, perhaps, my old woman here will find it a little difficult.' 'Not more difficult than you would, Mr. Wardlaw. Of course I don't mean exactly what I said. I have been made so happy by your kindness, but it has placed me in a false position. I feel myself getting less and less fitted-because you spoil me so-to make my own way in the world; and so I must needs set about it at once.'

As in all discussion in which the affections mingle, the arguments were various and discursive; but Nelly maintained her point: it was settled that she was to go to town, and, residing, if possible, at the old lodgings in Gower Street, to there pursue her studies. She wrote that day to the proprietor of the Fine Arts' establishment at Richmond, who had been her earliest patron, to inquire as to some drawing-master whose charges should be within

her slender means.

As a supplement to his teaching, it was her

purpose to attend the classes at South Kensington.

Having got over the first and worst difficulty-that of wrenching herself from her generous friends-Nelly felt somewhat more composed in mind; but the need of solitude after so much mental struggle was imperative. For the second time that day she took a walk alone. On this occasion she went inland, as being the less likely route on which to meet people, and especially Mr. Milburn; she chose a footpath through the fields that led to the high downland above the village, and on the down she walked for miles with untiring feet, in a clear wind that blew the sea-gulls about the skies, and the weariness and worry out of her brain. In youth nature will do this for us, but in old age the sunshine and the breeze fall but as rain upon a stony soil.

On her way down she saw a female figure coming up the path; by the daintiness with which she crossed the stiles and picked her way she knew it was Miss Milburn, and would gladly have avoided the rencontre. There was a little wood between them, through which were two paths, one direct and the other leading to a small farm, and so by a circuit to the same point of egress. Nelly took the longer route, calculating that this lady would take the other, but, when she emerged, there was her friend seated on the stile, and dinting the soft ground with the point of her parasol.

'My dear Miss Conway, I am so glad to have found you,' cried she, with enthusiasm. Indeed, I came out on purpose. I felt that I could never have sat down to dinner, or have met you in any cold or formal way, as usual, without expressing to you what I felt without telling you how admirably, how nobly, you have behaved!'