Otherwise he saw only the desperate alternative of throwing himself at her feet and declaring that he loved her, or of going back to Cambridge with the dreadful anticipation of hearing any day that she had married the squire.

To be laughed at would be bad, but to feel that he had lost her irrevocably, without a struggle, would be awful.

No one but the vicar could and would tell him the truth; it would be bitter to ask such a question, but it must be done.

Having at last come to this formidable resolution, towards the conclusion of dinner, his spirits rose a little.

He took another glass of the vicar's mild ale and felt that he could face his fate.
"May I speak to you a moment in the study, Mr.Ambrose ?" he said as they rose from table.
"Certainly," replied the vicar; and having conducted his wife to the drawing-room, he returned to find John.