He did not try to
overtake her, though he could have done so easily. He felt that their
first meeting must not be in the street, for the tears that smarted
under his eyelids and dimmed his sight, and the quicker throbbing of his
pulses, warned him that such a meeting would be no common incident in
their lives. She had been his wife for nine years, and she was far
dearer to him now than she had been when he married her. Eighteen months
of their life together had been lost--a great price to pay for his
restored health. But now a long, happy union lay before them.
He had not followed her for more than a minute or two when she suddenly
turned and entered Ann Holland's little shop. Well, he could not take
her by surprise better in any other house in Upton. Perhaps it might
even be better than at Bolton Villa, amid its cumbrous surroundings; he
always thought of his aunt's house with a sort of shudder. If Sophy had
fortunately fixed upon this quiet house for paying the good old maid a
kindly visit, there was not another place except their own home where he
would rather receive her first greeting--that is if the drunken old
saddler did not happen to be in.
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