the coachman became impatient of waiting; in the fear of the stage going without her, harassed too by all the perplexities which I have since learnt belong to all departures; she exclaimed in the momentary peevishness of not being able to unclasp my arms,—
"What a tiresome child it is, I shall have the coach go without me."
My arms relaxed their tender and passionate clasp, I stood at her side pale, for I felt the colour go from my cheek back upon my heart; my eyes drank back their tears, I felt then what I never felt before; the perfect self control of strong excitement, and I bade her civilly good morning. I walked slowly away from the gate without looking back to see her get into the coach, but hearing the horn echo on the air, I ran to a point of rising ground, I caught the last sight of the horses, and flung myself down on the grass; the words "how tiresome the child is," ringing in my ears, as if another person at my side delighted to repeat them in every possible way.
