Now，suchwasDarton，thatashourswentonhecouldnothelpfeelingtoogenerouslytowardsSallytocondemnherinthis。Whatdidhewantinawife？heaskedhimself。Loveandintegrity。Whatnext？Worldlywisdom。Andwastherereallymorethanworldlywisdominherrefusaltogoaboardasinkingship？Shenowknewitwasotherwise。’Begad，’hesaid，’I’lltryheragain。’
ThefactwashehadsosethisheartuponSally，andSallyalone，thatnothingwastobeallowedtobaulkhim；andhisreasoningwaspurelyformal。
Anniversarieshavingbeenunpropitious，hewaitedontillabrightdaylateinMay——adaywhenallanimatenaturewasfancying，initstrusting，foolishway，thatitwasgoingtobaskoutofdoorsforevermore。AsherodethroughLong-AshLaneitwasscarcerecognizableasthetrackofhistwowinterjourneys。Nomistakecouldbemadenow，evenwithhiseyesshut。Thecuckoo’snotewasatitsbest，betweenApriltentativenessandmidsummerdecrepitude，andthereptilesinthesunbehavedaswinninglyaskittensonahearth。Thoughafternoon，andaboutthesametimeasonthelastoccasion，itwasbroaddayandsunshinewhenheenteredHintock，andthedetailsoftheKnapdairy-housewerevisiblefaruptheroad。
HesawSallyinthegarden，andwassetvibrating。Hehadfirstintendedtogoontotheinn；but’No，’hesaid；’I’lltiemyhorsetothegarden-gate。Ifallgoeswellitcansoonbetakenround:
ifnot，Imountandrideaway’