The mists were creeping out of pools and swamps for their pilgrimages of the night when Stephen came up to the front door of the vicarage. Elfride was standing on the step illuminated by a lemon-hued expanse of western sky. + 

вАЬYou never have been all this time looking for that earring?вАЭ she said anxiously. + 

вАЬOh no; and I have not found it.вАЭ + 

вАЬNever mind. Though I am much vexed; they are my prettiest. But, Stephen, what ever have you been doingвБ†вАФwhere have you been? I have been so uneasy. I feared for you, knowing not an inch of the country. I thought, suppose he has fallen over the cliff! But now I am inclined to scold you for frightening me so.вАЭ + 

вАЬI must speak to your father now,вАЭ he said rather abruptly; вАЬI have so much to say to himвБ†вАФand to you, Elfride.вАЭ + 

вАЬWill what you have to say endanger this nice time of ours, and is it that same shadowy secret you allude to so frequently, and will it make me unhappy?вАЭ + 

вАЬPossibly.вАЭ + 

She breathed heavily, and looked around as if for a prompter. + 

вАЬPut it off till tomorrow,вАЭ she said. + 

He involuntarily sighed too. + 

вАЬNo; it must come tonight. Where is your father, Elfride?вАЭ + 

вАЬSomewhere in the kitchen garden, I think,вАЭ she replied. вАЬThat is his favourite evening retreat. I will leave you now. Say all thatвАЩs to be saidвБ†вАФdo all there is to be done. Think of me waiting anxiously for the end.вАЭ And she reentered the house. + 

She waited in the drawing-room, watching the lights sink to shadows, the shadows sink to darkness, until her impatience to know what had occurred in the garden could no longer be controlled. She passed round the shrubbery, unlatched the garden door, and skimmed with her keen eyes the whole twilighted space that the four walls enclosed and sheltered: they were not there. She mounted a little ladder, which had been used for gathering fruit, and looked over the wall into the field. This field extended to the limits of the glebe, which was enclosed on that side by a privet-hedge. Under the hedge was Mr.¬†Swancourt, walking up and down, and talking aloudвБ†вАФto himself, as it sounded at first. No: another voice shouted occasional replies; and this interlocutor seemed to be on the other side of the hedge. The voice, though soft in quality, was not StephenвАЩs. + 

The second speaker must have been in the long-neglected garden of an old manor-house hard by, which, together with a small estate attached, had lately been purchased by a person named Troyton, whom Elfride had never seen. Her father might have struck up an acquaintanceship with some member of that family through the privet-hedge, or a stranger to the neighbourhood might have wandered thither. + 

Well, there was no necessity for disturbing him. And it seemed that, after all, Stephen had not yet made his desired communication to her father. Again she went indoors, wondering where Stephen could be. For want of something better to do, she went upstairs to her own little room. Here she sat down at the open window, and, leaning with her elbow on the table and her cheek upon her hand, she fell into meditation. + 

It was a hot and still August night. Every disturbance of the silence which rose to the dignity of a noise could be heard for miles, and the merest sound for a long distance. So she remained, thinking of Stephen, and wishing he had not deprived her of his company to no purpose, as it appeared. How delicate and sensitive he was, she reflected; and yet he was man enough to have a private mystery, which considerably elevated him in her eyes. Thus, looking at things with an inward vision, she lost consciousness of the flight of time. + 

Strange conjunctions of circumstances, particularly those of a trivial everyday kind, are so frequent in an ordinary life, that we grow used to their unaccountableness, and forget the question whether the very long odds against such juxtaposition is not almost a disproof of it being a matter of chance at all. What occurred to Elfride at this moment was a case in point. She was vividly imagining, for the twentieth time, the kiss of the morning, and putting her lips together in the position another such a one would demand, when she heard the identical operation performed on the lawn, immediately beneath her window. + 

A kissвБ†вАФnot of the quiet and stealthy kind, but decisive, loud, and smart. + 

Her face flushed and she looked out, but to no purpose. The dark rim of the upland drew a keen sad line against the pale glow of the sky, unbroken except where a young cedar on the lawn, that had outgrown its fellow trees, shot its pointed head across the horizon, piercing the firmamental lustre like a sting. + 

It was just possible that, had any persons been standing on the grassy portions of the lawn, Elfride might have seen their dusky forms. But the shrubs, which once had merely dotted the glade, had now grown bushy and large, till they hid at least half the enclosure containing them. The kissing pair might have been behind some of these; at any rate, nobody was in sight. + 

Had no enigma ever been connected with her lover by his hints and absences, Elfride would never have thought of admitting into her mind a suspicion that he might be concerned in the foregoing enactment. But the reservations he at present insisted on, while they added to the mystery without which perhaps she would never have seriously loved him at all, were calculated to nourish doubts of all kinds, and with a slow flush of jealousy she asked herself, might he not be the culprit? + 

Elfride glided downstairs on tiptoe, and out to the precise spot on which she had parted from Stephen to enable him to speak privately to her father. Thence she wandered into all the nooks around the place from which the sound seemed to proceedвБ†вАФamong the huge laurestines, about the tufts of pampas grasses, amid the variegated hollies, under the weeping wych-elmвБ†вАФnobody was there. Returning indoors she called вАЬUnity!вАЭ + 

вАЬShe is gone to her auntвАЩs, to spend the evening,вАЭ said Mr.¬†Swancourt, thrusting his head out of his study door, and letting the light of his candles stream upon ElfrideвАЩs faceвБ†вАФless revealing than, as it seemed to herself, creating the blush of uneasy perplexity that was burning upon her cheek. + 

вАЬI didnвАЩt know you were indoors, papa,вАЭ she said with surprise. вАЬSurely no light was shining from the window when I was on the lawn?вАЭ and she looked and saw that the shutters were still open. + 

вАЬOh yes, I am in,вАЭ he said indifferently. вАЬWhat did you want Unity for? I think she laid supper before she went out.вАЭ + 

вАЬDid she?вБ†вАФI have not been to seeвБ†вАФI didnвАЩt want her for that.вАЭ + 

Elfride scarcely knew, now that a definite reason was required, what that reason was. Her mind for a moment strayed to another subject, unimportant as it seemed. The red ember of a match was lying inside the fender, which explained that why she had seen no rays from the window was because the candles had only just been lighted. + 

вАЬIвАЩll come directly,вАЭ said the vicar. вАЬI thought you were out somewhere with Mr.¬†Smith.вАЭ + 

Even the inexperienced Elfride could not help thinking that her father must be wonderfully blind if he failed to perceive what was the nascent consequence of herself and Stephen being so unceremoniously left together; wonderfully careless, if he saw it and did not think about it; wonderfully good, if, as seemed to her by far the most probable supposition, he saw it and thought about it and approved of it. These reflections were cut short by the appearance of Stephen just outside the porch, silvered about the head and shoulders with touches of moonlight, that had begun to creep through the trees. + 

вАЬHas your trouble anything to do with a kiss on the lawn?вАЭ she asked abruptly, almost passionately. + 

вАЬKiss on the lawn?вАЭ + 

вАЬYes!вАЭ she said, imperiously now. + 

вАЬI didnвАЩt comprehend your meaning, nor do I now exactly. I certainly have kissed nobody on the lawn, if that is really what you want to know, Elfride.вАЭ + 

вАЬYou know nothing about such a performance?вАЭ + 

вАЬNothing whatever. What makes you ask?вАЭ + 

вАЬDonвАЩt press me to tell; it is nothing of importance. And, Stephen, you have not yet spoken to papa about our engagement?вАЭ + 

вАЬNo,вАЭ he said regretfully, вАЬI could not find him directly; and then I went on thinking so much of what you said about objections, refusalsвБ†вАФbitter words possiblyвБ†вАФending our happiness, that I resolved to put it off till tomorrow; that gives us one more day of delightвБ†вАФdelight of a tremulous kind.вАЭ + 

вАЬYes; but it would be improper to be silent too long, I think,вАЭ she said in a delicate voice, which implied that her face had grown warm. вАЬI want him to know we love, Stephen. Why did you adopt as your own my thought of delay?вАЭ + 

вАЬI will explain; but I want to tell you of my secret firstвБ†вАФto tell you now. It is two or three hours yet to bedtime. Let us walk up the hill to the church.вАЭ + 

Elfride passively assented, and they went from the lawn by a side wicket, and ascended into the open expanse of moonlight which streamed around the lonely edifice on the summit of the hill. + 

The door was locked. They turned from the porch, and walked hand in hand to find a resting-place in the churchyard. Stephen chose a flat tomb, showing itself to be newer and whiter than those around it, and sitting down himself, gently drew her hand towards him. + 

вАЬNo, not there,вАЭ she said. + 

вАЬWhy not here?вАЭ + 

вАЬA mere fancy; but never mind.вАЭ And she sat down. + 

вАЬElfie, will you love me, in spite of everything that may be said against me?вАЭ + 

вАЬO Stephen, what makes you repeat that so continually and so sadly? You know I will. Yes, indeed,вАЭ she said, drawing closer, вАЬwhatever may be said of youвБ†вАФand nothing bad can beвБ†вАФI will cling to you just the same. Your ways shall be my ways until I die.вАЭ + 

вАЬDid you ever think what my parents might be, or what society I originally moved in?вАЭ + 

вАЬNo, not particularly. I have observed one or two little points in your manners which are rather quaintвБ†вАФno more. I suppose you have moved in the ordinary society of professional people.вАЭ + 

вАЬSupposing I have notвБ†вАФthat none of my family have a profession except me?вАЭ + 

вАЬI donвАЩt mind. What you are only concerns me.вАЭ + 

вАЬWhere do you think I went to schoolвБ†вАФI mean, to what kind of school?вАЭ + 

вАЬDr.¬†SomebodyвАЩs academy,вАЭ she said simply. + 

вАЬNo. To a dame school originally, then to a national school.вАЭ + 

вАЬOnly to those! Well, I love you just as much, Stephen, dear Stephen,вАЭ she murmured tenderly, вАЬI do indeed. And why should you tell me these things so impressively? What do they matter to me?вАЭ + 

He held her closer and proceeded: + 

вАЬWhat do you think my father isвБ†вАФdoes for his living, that is to say?вАЭ + 

вАЬHe practises some profession or calling, I suppose.вАЭ + 

вАЬNo; he is a mason.вАЭ + 

вАЬA Freemason?вАЭ + 

вАЬNo; a cottager and journeyman mason.вАЭ + 

Elfride said nothing at first. After a while she whispered: + 

вАЬThat is a strange idea to me. But never mind; what does it matter?вАЭ + 

вАЬBut arenвАЩt you angry with me for not telling you before?вАЭ + 

вАЬNo, not at all. Is your mother alive?вАЭ + 

вАЬYes.вАЭ + 

вАЬIs she a nice lady?вАЭ + 

вАЬVeryвБ†вАФthe best mother in the world. Her people had been well-to-do yeomen for centuries, but she was only a dairymaid.вАЭ + 

вАЬO Stephen!вАЭ came from her in whispered exclamation. + 

вАЬShe continued to attend to a dairy long after my father married her,вАЭ pursued Stephen, without further hesitation. вАЬAnd I remember very well how, when I was very young, I used to go to the milking, look on at the skimming, sleep through the churning, and make believe I helped her. Ah, that was a happy time enough!вАЭ + 

вАЬNo, neverвБ†вАФnot happy.вАЭ + 

вАЬYes, it was.вАЭ + 

вАЬI donвАЩt see how happiness could be where the drudgery of dairy-work had to be done for a livingвБ†вАФthe hands red and chapped, and the shoes clogged.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Stephen, I do own that it seems odd to regard you in the light ofвБ†вАФofвБ†вАФhaving been so rough in your youth, and done menial things of that kind.вАЭ (Stephen withdrew an inch or two from her side.) вАЬBut I do love you just the same,вАЭ she continued, getting closer under his shoulder again, вАЬand I donвАЩt care anything about the past; and I see that you are all the worthier for having pushed on in the world in such a way.вАЭ + 

вАЬIt is not my worthiness; it is KnightвАЩs, who pushed me.вАЭ + 

вАЬAh, always heвБ†вАФalways he!вАЭ + 

вАЬYes, and properly so. Now, Elfride, you see the reason of his teaching me by letter. I knew him years before he went to Oxford, but I had not got far enough in my reading for him to entertain the idea of helping me in classics till he left home. Then I was sent away from the village, and we very seldom met; but he kept up this system of tuition by correspondence with the greatest regularity. I will tell you all the story, but not now. There is nothing more to say now, beyond giving places, persons, and dates.вАЭ His voice became timidly slow at this point. + 

вАЬNo; donвАЩt take trouble to say more. You are a dear honest fellow to say so much as you have; and it is not so dreadful either. It has become a normal thing that millionaires commence by going up to London with their tools at their back, and half-a-crown in their pockets. That sort of origin is getting so respected,вАЭ she continued cheerfully, вАЬthat it is acquiring some of the odour of Norman ancestry.вАЭ + 

вАЬAh, if I had made my fortune, I shouldnвАЩt mind. But I am only a possible maker of it as yet.вАЭ + 

вАЬIt is quite enough. And so this is what your trouble was?вАЭ + 

вАЬI thought I was doing wrong in letting you love me without telling you my story; and yet I feared to do so, Elfie. I dreaded to lose you, and I was cowardly on that account.вАЭ + 

вАЬHow plain everything about you seems after this explanation! Your peculiarities in chess-playing, the pronunciation papa noticed in your Latin, your odd mixture of book-knowledge with ignorance of ordinary social accomplishments, are accounted for in a moment. And has this anything to do with what I saw at Lord LuxellianвАЩs?вАЭ + 

вАЬWhat did you see?вАЭ + 

вАЬI saw the shadow of yourself putting a cloak round a lady. I was at the side door; you two were in a room with the window towards me. You came to me a moment later.вАЭ + 

вАЬShe was my mother.вАЭ + 

вАЬYour mother there!вАЭ She withdrew herself to look at him silently in her interest. + 

вАЬElfride,вАЭ said Stephen, вАЬI was going to tell you the remainder tomorrowвБ†вАФI have been keeping it backвБ†вАФI must tell it now, after all. The remainder of my revelation refers to where my parents are. Where do you think they live? You know themвБ†вАФby sight at any rate.вАЭ + 

вАЬI know them!вАЭ she said in suspended amazement. + 

вАЬYes. My father is John Smith, Lord LuxellianвАЩs master-mason, who lives under the park wall by the river.вАЭ + 

вАЬO Stephen! can it be?вАЭ + 

вАЬHe builtвБ†вАФor assisted at the building of the house you live in, years ago. He put up those stone gate piers at the lodge entrance to Lord LuxellianвАЩs park. My grandfather planted the trees that belt in your lawn; my grandmotherвБ†вАФwho worked in the fields with himвБ†вАФheld each tree upright whilst he filled in the earth: they told me so when I was a child. He was the sexton, too, and dug many of the graves around us.вАЭ + 

вАЬAnd was your unaccountable vanishing on the first morning of your arrival, and again this afternoon, a run to see your father and mother?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I understand now; no wonder you seemed to know your way about the village!вАЭ + 

вАЬNo wonder. But remember, I have not lived here since I was nine years old. I then went to live with my uncle, a blacksmith, near Exonbury, in order to be able to attend a national school as a day scholar; there was none on this remote coast then. It was there I met with my friend Knight. And when I was fifteen and had been fairly educated by the schoolmasterвБ†вАФand more particularly by KnightвБ†вАФI was put as a pupil in an architectвАЩs office in that town, because I was skilful in the use of the pencil. A full premium was paid by the efforts of my mother and father, rather against the wishes of Lord Luxellian, who likes my father, however, and thinks a great deal of him. There I stayed till six months ago, when I obtained a situation as improver, as it is called, in a London office. ThatвАЩs all of me.вАЭ + 

вАЬTo think you, the London visitor, the town man, should have been born here, and have known this village so many years before I did. How strangeвБ†вАФhow very strange it seems to me!вАЭ she murmured. + 

вАЬMy mother curtseyed to you and your father last Sunday,вАЭ said Stephen, with a pained smile at the thought of the incongruity. вАЬAnd your papa said to her, вАШI am glad to see you so regular at church, Jane.вАЩвАКвАЭ + 

вАЬI remember it, but I have never spoken to her. We have only been here eighteen months, and the parish is so large.вАЭ + 

вАЬContrast with this,вАЭ said Stephen, with a miserable laugh, вАЬyour fatherвАЩs belief in my вАШblue blood,вАЩ which is still prevalent in his mind. The first night I came, he insisted upon proving my descent from one of the most ancient west-county families, on account of my second Christian name; when the truth is, it was given me because my grandfather was assistant gardener in the Fitzmaurice-Smith family for thirty years. Having seen your face, my darling, I had not heart to contradict him, and tell him what would have cut me off from a friendly knowledge of you.вАЭ + 

She sighed deeply. вАЬYes, I see now how this inequality may be made to trouble us,вАЭ she murmured, and continued in a low, sad whisper, вАЬI wouldnвАЩt have minded if they had lived far away. Papa might have consented to an engagement between us if your connection had been with villagers a hundred miles off; remoteness softens family contrasts. But he will not likeвБ†вАФO Stephen, Stephen! what can I do?вАЭ + 

вАЬDo?вАЭ he said tentatively, yet with heaviness. вАЬGive me up; let me go back to London, and think no more of me.вАЭ + 

вАЬNo, no; I cannot give you up! This hopelessness in our affairs makes me care more for you.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I see what did not strike me at first. Stephen, why do we trouble? Why should papa object? An architect in London is an architect in London. Who inquires there? Nobody. We shall live there, shall we not? Why need we be so alarmed?вАЭ + 

вАЬAnd Elfie,вАЭ said Stephen, his hopes kindling with hers, вАЬKnight thinks nothing of my being only a cottagerвАЩs son; he says I am as worthy of his friendship as if I were a lordвАЩs; and if I am worthy of his friendship, I am worthy of you, am I not, Elfride?вАЭ + 

вАЬI not only have never loved anybody but you,вАЭ she said, instead of giving an answer, вАЬbut I have not even formed a strong friendship, such as you have for Knight. I wish you hadnвАЩt. It diminishes me.вАЭ + 

вАЬNow, Elfride, you know better,вАЭ he said wooingly. вАЬAnd had you really never any sweetheart at all?вАЭ + 

вАЬNone that was ever recognized by me as such.вАЭ + 

вАЬBut did nobody ever love you?вАЭ + 

вАЬYesвБ†вАФa man did once; very much, he said.вАЭ + 

вАЬHow long ago?вАЭ + 

вАЬOh, a long time.вАЭ + 

вАЬHow long, dearest?вАЭ + 

вАЬA twelvemonth.вАЭ + 

вАЬThatвАЩs not very longвАЭ (rather disappointedly). + 

вАЬI said long, not very long.вАЭ + 

вАЬAnd did he want to marry you?вАЭ + 

вАЬI believe he did. But I didnвАЩt see anything in him. He was not good enough, even if I had loved him.вАЭ + 

вАЬMay I ask what he was?вАЭ + 

вАЬA farmer.вАЭ + 

вАЬA farmer not good enoughвБ†вАФhow much better than my family!вАЭ Stephen murmured. + 

вАЬWhere is he now?вАЭ he continued to Elfride. + 

вАЬHere.вАЭ + 

вАЬHere! what do you mean by that?вАЭ + 

вАЬI mean that he is here.вАЭ + 

вАЬWhere here?вАЭ + 

вАЬUnder us. He is under this tomb. He is dead, and we are sitting on his grave.вАЭ + 

вАЬElfie,вАЭ said the young man, standing up and looking at the tomb, вАЬhow odd and sad that revelation seems! It quite depresses me for the moment.вАЭ + 

вАЬStephen, I didnвАЩt wish to sit here; but you would do so.вАЭ + 

вАЬYou never encouraged him?вАЭ + 

вАЬNever by look, word, or sign,вАЭ she said solemnly. вАЬHe died of consumption, and was buried the day you first came.вАЭ + 

вАЬLet us go away. I donвАЩt like standing by him, even if you never loved him. He was before me.вАЭ + 

вАЬWorries make you unreasonable,вАЭ she half pouted, following Stephen at the distance of a few steps. вАЬPerhaps I ought to have told you before we sat down. Yes; let us go.вАЭ + 