But, in truth, he
muttered a heavy oath under his breath--an oath that was by no means in
keeping with his godly and peaceful disposition. Once, as he walked, he
looked back,--and saw the woman he coveted now more than ever, standing
erect in the porch, tall, fair and loyal in her attitude, looking like
some proud empress who had just dismissed an unworthy vassal. A farmer's
daughter! and she had refused Mr. Dyceworthy with disdain! He had much
ado to prevent himself shaking his fist at her!
"The lofty shall be laid low, and the stiff-necked shall be humbled," he
thought, as with a vicious switch of his stick he struck off a fragrant
head of purple clover. "Conceited fool of a girl! Hopes to be 'my lady'
does she? She had better take care!"
Here he stopped abruptly in his walk as if a thought had struck him,--a
malignant joy sparkled in his eyes, and he flourished his stick
triumphantly in the air. "I'll have her yet!" he exclaimed half-aloud.
"I'll set Lovisa on her!" And his countenance cleared; he quickened his
pace like a man having some pressing business to fulfill, and was soon
in his boat, rowing towards Bosekop with unaccustomed speed and energy.
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