And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. Keeping to the shadow of the house, he crept forward until he could see better without, he hoped, being seen. "There! off with you!" whispered Mrs. ” He leaned back in his chair as though wearied. "Is it by lettin' you go, my darlin', that I'm to airn it?" inquired Terence. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. .
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