For, to tell the truth, ever since Tom had heard of Grace's intended dismissal, the curate's opinions had assumed a practical importance in his eyes; and he had vowed in secret that, if his cunning failed him not, turned out of her school she should not be.

Whether she had stolen his money or not, she had saved his life; and nobody should wrong her, if he could help it.

Besides, perhaps she had not his money.

The belt might have slipped off in the struggle; some one else might have taken it off in carrying him up; he might have mistaken the shame of innocence in her face for that of guilt.

Be it as it might, he had not the heart to make the matter public, and contented himself with staying at Aberalva, and watching for every hint of his lost treasure.
By which it befell that he was thinking, the half of every day at least, about Grace Harvey; and her face was seldom out of his mind's eye; and the more he looked at it, either in fancy or in fact, the more did it fascinate him.