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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 425 pages of information about Scenes of Clerical Life.

The lover did not appear much discomposed, but sat quiet a little longer, and then, seating himself on the music-stool, drew it near to Caterina, and, taking her hand, said, ’Come, Tina, look kindly at me, and let us be friends.  I shall always be your friend.’

‘Thank you,’ said Caterina, drawing away her hand.  ’You are very generous.  But pray move away.  Miss Assher may come in again.’

‘Miss Assher be hanged!’ said Anthony, feeling the fascination of old habit returning on him in his proximity to Caterina.  He put his arm round her waist, and leaned his cheek down to hers.  The lips couldn’t help meeting after that; but the next moment, with heart swelling and tears rising, Caterina burst away from him, and rushed out of the room.

Chapter 7

Caterina tore herself from Anthony with the desperate effort of one who has just self-recollection enough left to be conscious that the fumes of charcoal will master his senses unless he bursts a way for himself to the fresh air; but when she reached her own room, she was still too intoxicated with that momentary revival of old emotions, too much agitated by the sudden return of tenderness in her lover, to know whether pain or pleasure predominated.  It was as if a miracle had happened in her little world of feeling, and made the future all vague—­a dim morning haze of possibilities, instead of the sombre wintry daylight and clear rigid outline of painful certainty.

She felt the need of rapid movement.  She must walk out in spite of the rain.  Happily, there was a thin place in the curtain of clouds which seemed to promise that now, about noon, the day had a mind to clear up.  Caterina thought to herself, ’I will walk to the Mosslands, and carry Mr. Bates the comforter I have made for him, and then Lady Cheverel will not wonder so much at my going out.’  At the hall door she found Rupert, the old bloodhound, stationed on the mat, with the determination that the first person who was sensible enough to take a walk that morning should have the honour of his approbation and society.  As he thrust his great black and tawny head under her hand, and wagged his tail with vigorous eloquence, and reached the climax of his welcome by jumping up to lick her face, which was at a convenient licking height for him, Caterina felt quite grateful to the old dog for his friendliness.  Animals are such agreeable friends—­they ask no questions, they pass no criticisms.

The ‘Mosslands’ was a remote part of the grounds, encircled by the little stream issuing from the pool; and certainly, for a wet day, Caterina could hardly have chosen a less suitable walk, for though the rain was abating, and presently ceased altogether, there was still a smart shower falling from the trees which arched over the greater part of her way.  But she found just the desired relief from her feverish excitement in labouring along the wet paths with an umbrella that made her arm ache.  This amount of exertion was to her tiny body what a day’s hunting often was to Mr. Gilfil, who at times had his fits of jealousy and sadness to get rid of, and wisely had recourse to nature’s innocent opium—­fatigue.

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