‘And whose is it, then?’

‘Yours.’

‘No, dear Will; it is not mine.  You know that.’

’I intend that it shall be so, and therefore you might as well put the keys where you will know how to find them.’

Alter he had gone she did take up the key, and tied it with sundry others, which she intended to give to the old servant who was to be left in charge of the house.  But after a few moments’ consideration she took the cellar key again off the bunch, and put it back upon the sofa in the place to which he had thrown it.

On the following morning they started on their journey.  The old fly from Redicote was not used on this occasion, as Belton had ordered a pair of post-horses and a comfortable carriage from Taunton.  ’I think it such a shame,’ said Clara, ’going away for the last time without having Jerry and the grey horse.’  Jerry was the man who had once driven her to Taunton when the old horse fell with her on the road.  ’But Jerry and the grey horse could not have taken you and me too, and all our luggage,’ said Will.  ‘Poor Jerry!  I suppose not,’ said Clara; ’but still there is an injury done in going without him.’

There were four or five old dependents of the family standing round the door to bid her adieu, to all of whom she gave her hand with a cordial pressure.  They, at least, seemed to regard her departure as final.  And of course it was final.  She had assured herself of that during the night.  And just as they were about to start, both Colonel and Mrs Askerton walked up to the door.  ’He wouldn’t let you go without bidding you farewell,’ said Mrs Askerton.  ’I am so glad to shake hands with him,’ Clara answered.  Then the colonel spoke a word to her, and, as he did so, his wife contrived to draw Will Belton for a moment behind the carriage.  ‘Never give it up, Mr Belton,’ said she eagerly.  ’If you persevere she’ll be yours yet.’  ‘I fear not,’ he said.  ’Stick to her like a man,’ said she, pressing his hand in her vehemence.  ’If you do, you’ll live to thank me for having told you so.’  Will had not a word to say for himself, but he thought that he would stick to her.  Indeed, he thought that he had stuck to her pretty well.

At last they were off, and the village of Belton was behind them; Will, glancing into his cousin’s face, saw that her eyes were laden with tears, and refrained from speaking.  As they passed the ugly red-brick rectory. house, Clara for a moment put her face to the window, and then withdrew it.  ‘There is nobody there,’ she said, ’who will care to see me.  Considering that I have lived here all my life, is it not odd that there should be so few to bid me good-bye?’

‘People do not like to put themselves forward on such occasions,’ said Will.

’People there are no people.  No one ever had so few to care for them as I have.  And now But never mind; I mean to do very well, and I shall do very well.’  Belton would not take advantage of her in her sadness, and they reached the station at Taunton almost without another word.