XXXVII。　　REACTION
  There　was　no　letter　from　Bob；　though　December　had　passed；　and　the
  new　year　was　two　weeks　old。　　His　movements　were；　however；　pretty
  accurately　registered　in　the　papers；　which　John　still　brought；　but
  which　Anne　no　longer　read。　　During　the　second　week　in　December　the
  Victory　sailed　for　Sheerness；　and　on　the　9th　of　the　following
  January　the　public　funeral　of　Lord　Nelson　took　place　in　St。　Paul's。
  Then　there　came　a　meagre　line　addressed　to　the　family　in　general。
  Bob's　new　Portsmouth　attachment　was　not　mentioned；　but　he　told　them
  he　had　been　one　of　the　eight…and…forty　seamen　who　walked　two…and…two
  in　the　funeral　procession；　and　that　Captain　Hardy　had　borne　the
  banner　of　emblems　on　the　same　occasion。　　The　crew　was　soon　to　be
  paid　off　at　Chatham；　when　he　thought　of　returning　to　Portsmouth　for
  a　few　days　to　see　a　valued　friend。　　After　that　he　should　come　home。
  But　the　spring　advanced　without　bringing　him；　and　John　watched　Anne
  Garland's　desolation　with　augmenting　desire　to　do　something　towards
  consoling　her。　　The　old　feelings；　so　religiously　held　in　check；　were
  stimulated　to　rebelliousness；　though　they　did　not　show　themselves　in
  any　direct　manner　as　yet。
  The　miller；　in　the　meantime；　who　seldom　interfered　in　such　matters；
  was　observed　to　look　meaningly　at　Anne　and　the　trumpet…major　from
  day　to　day；　and　by…and…by　he　spoke　privately　to　John。
  His　words　were　short　and　to　the　point：　　Anne　was　very　melancholy；
  she　had　thought　too　much　of　Bob。　　Now　'twas　plain　that　they　had　lost
  him　for　many　years　to　come。　　Well；　he　had　always　felt　that　of　the
  two　he　would　rather　John　married　her。　　Now　John　might　settle　down
  there；　and　succeed　where　Bob　had　failed。　　'So　if　you　could　get　her；
  my　sonny；　to　think　less　of　him　and　more　of　thyself；　it　would　be　a
  good　thing　for　all。'
  An　inward　excitement　had　risen　in　John；　but　he　suppressed　it　and
  said　firmly
  'Fairness　to　Bob　before　everything！'
  'He　hev　forgot　her；　and　there's　an　end　on't。'
  'She's　not　forgot　him。'
  'Well；　well；　think　it　over。'
  This　discourse　was　the　cause　of　his　penning　a　letter　to　his　brother。
  He　begged　for　a　distinct　statement　whether；　as　John　at　first
  supposed；　Bob's　verbal　renunciation　of　Anne　on　the　quay　had　been
  only　a　momentary　ebullition　of　friendship；　which　it　would　be　cruel
  to　take　literally；　or　whether；　as　seemed　now；　it　had　passed　from　a
  hasty　resolve　to　a　standing　purpose；　persevered　in　for　his　own
  pleasure；　with　not　a　care　for　the　result　on　poor　Anne。
  John　waited　anxiously　for　the　answer；　but　no　answer　came；　and　the
  silence　seemed　even　more　significant　than　a　letter　of　assurance
  could　have　been　of　his　absolution　from　further　support　to　a　claim
  which　Bob　himself　had　so　clearly　renounced。　　Thus　it　happened　that
  paternal　pressure；　brotherly　indifference；　and　his　own　released
  impulse　operated　in　one　delightful　direction；　and　the　trumpet…major
  once　more　approached　Anne　as　in　the　old　time。
  But　it　was　not　till　she　had　been　left　to　herself　for　a　full　five
  months；　and　the　blue…bells　and　ragged…robins　of　the　following　year
  were　again　making　themselves　common　to　the　rambling　eye；　that　he
  directly　addressed　her。　　She　was　tying　up　a　group　of　tall　flowering
  plants　in　the　garden：　　she　knew　that　he　was　behind　her；　but　she　did
  not　turn。　　She　had　subsided　into　a　placid　dignity　which　enabled　her
  when　watched　to　perform　any　little　action　with　seeming　composure
  very　different　from　the　flutter　of　her　inexperienced　days。
  'Are　you　never　going　to　turn　round？'　he　at　length　asked
  good…humouredly。
  She　then　did　turn；　and　looked　at　him　for　a　moment　without　speaking；
  a　certain　suspicion　looming　in　her　eyes；　as　if　suggested　by　his
  perceptible　want　of　ease。
  'How　like　summer　it　is　getting　to　feel；　is　it　not？'　she　said。
  John　admitted　that　it　was　getting　to　feel　like　summer：　　and；　bending
  his　gaze　upon　her　with　an　earnestness　which　no　longer　left　any　doubt
  of　his　subject；　went　on　to　ask
  'Have　you　ever　in　these　last　weeks　thought　of　how　it　used　to　be
  between　us？'
  She　replied　quickly；　'O；　John；　you　shouldn't　begin　that　again。　　I　am
  almost　another　woman　now！'
  'Well；　that's　all　the　more　reason　why　I　should；　isn't　it？'
  Anne　looked　thoughtfully　to　the　other　end　of　the　garden；　faintly
  shaking　her　head；　'I　don't　quite　see　it　like　that；'　she　returned。
  'You　feel　yourself　quite　free；　don't　you？'
  'QUITE　free！'　she　said　instantly；　and　with　proud　distinctness；　her
  eyes　fell；　and　she　repeated　more　slowly；　'Quite　free。'　　Then　her
  thoughts　seemed　to　fly　from　herself　to　him。　　'But　you　are　not？'
  'I　am　not？'
  'Miss　Johnson！'
  'Othat　woman！　　You　know　as　well　as　I　that　was　all　make…up；　and
  that　I　never　for　a　moment　thought　of　her。'
  'I　had　an　idea　you　were　acting；　but　I　wasn't　sure。'
  'Well；　that's　nothing　now。　　Anne；　I　want　to　relieve　your　life；　to
  cheer　you　in　some　way；　to　make　some　amends　for　my　brother's　bad
  conduct。　　If　you　cannot　love　me；　liking　will　be　well　enough。　　I　have
  thought　over　every　side　of　it　so　many　timesfor　months　have　I　been
  thinking　it　overand　I　am　at　last　sure　that　I　do　right　to　put　it　to
  you　in　this　way。　　That　I　don't　wrong　Bob　I　am　quite　convinced。　　As
  far　as　he　is　concerned　we　be　both　free。　　Had　I　not　been　sure　of　that
  I　would　never　have　spoken。　　Father　wants　me　to　take　on　the　mill；　and
  it　will　please　him　if　you　can　give　me　one　little　hope；　it　will　make
  the　house　go　on　altogether　better　if　you　can　think　o'　me。'
  'You　are　generous　and　good；　John；'　she　said；　as　a　big　round　tear
  bowled　helter…skelter　down　her　face　and　hat…strings。
  'I　am　not　that；　I　fear　I　am　quite　the　opposite；'　he　said；　without
  looking　at　her。　　'It　would　be　all　gain　to　me　　But　you　have　not
  answered　my　question。'
  She　lifted　her　eyes。　　'John；　I　cannot！'　she　said；　with　a　cheerless
  smile。　　'Positively　I　cannot。　　Will　you　make　me　a　promise？'
  'What　is　it？'
  'I　want　you　to　promise　first　　Yes；　it　is　dreadfully　unreasonable；'
  she　added；　in　a　mild　distress。　　'But　do　promise！'
  John　by　this　time　seemed　to　have　a　feeling　that　it　was　all　up　with
  him　for　the　present。　　'I　promise；'　he　said　listlessly。
  'It　is　that　you　won't　speak　to　me　about　this　for　EVER　so　long；'　she
  returned；　with　emphatic　kindliness。
  'Very　good；'　he　replied；　'very　good。　　Dear　Anne；　you　don't　think　I
  have　been　unmanly　or　unfair　in　starting　this　anew？'
  Anne　looked　into　his　face　without　a　smile。　　'You　have　been　perfectly
  natural；'　she　murmured。　　'And　so　I　think　have　I。'
  John；　mournfully：　　'You　will　not　avoid　me　for　this；　or　be　afraid　of
  me？　　I　will　not　break　my　word。　　I　will　not　worry　you　any　more。'
  'Thank　you；　John。　　You　need　not　have　said　worry；　it　isn't　that。'
  'Well；　I　am　very　blind　and　stupid。　　I　have　been　hurting　your　heart
  all　the　time　without　knowing　it。　　It　is　my　fate；　I　suppose。　　Men　who
  love　women　the　very　best　always　blunder　and　give　more　pain　than
  those　who　love　them　less。'
  Anne　laid　one　of　her　hands　on　the　other　as　she　softly　replied；
  looking　down　at　them；　'No　one　loves　me　as　well　as　you；　John；　nobody
  in　the　world　is　so　worthy　to　be　loved；　and　yet　I　cannot　anyhow　love
  you　rightly。'　　And　lifting　her　eyes；　'But　I　do　so　feel　for　you　that
  I　will　try　as　hard　as　I　can　to　think　about　you。'
  'Well；　that　is　something；'　he　said；　smiling。　　'You　say　I　must　not
  speak　about　it　again　for　ever　so　long；　how　long？'
  'Now　that's　not　fair；'　Anne　retorted；　going　down　the　garden；　and
  leaving　him　alone。
  About　a　week　passed。　　Then　one　afternoon　the　miller　walked　up　to
  Anne　indoors；　a　weighty　topic　being　expressed　in　his　tread。
  'I　was　so　glad；　my　honey；'　he　began；　with　a　knowing　smile；　'to　see
  that　from　the　mill…window　last　week。'　　He　flung　a　nod　in　the
  direction　of　the　garden。
  Anne　innocently　inquired　what　it　could　be。
  'Jack　and　you　in　the　garden　together；'　he　continued　laying　his　hand
  gently　on　her　shoulder　and　stroking　it。　　'It　would　so　please　me；　my
  dear　little　girl；　if　you　could　get　to　like　him　better　than　that
  weathercock；　Master　Bob。'
  Anne　shook　her　head；　not　in　forcible　negation；　but　to　imply　a　kind
  of　neutrality。
  'Can't　you？　　Come　now；'　said　the　miller。
  She　threw　back　her　head　with　a　little　laugh　of　grievance。　　'How　you
  all　beset　me！'　she　expostulated。　　'It　makes　me　feel　very　wicked　in
  not　obeying　you；　and　being　faithfulfaithful　to'　　But　she　could
  not　trust　that　side　of　the　subject　to　words。　　'Why　would　it　please
  you　so　much？'　she　asked。
  'John　is　as　steady　and　staunch　a　fellow　as　ever　blowed　a　trumpet。
  I've　always　thought　you　might　do　better　with　him　than　with　Bob。　　Now
  I've　a　plan　for　taking　him　into　the　mill；　and　letting　him　have　a
  comfortable　time　o't　after　his　long　knocking　about；　but　so　much
  depends　upon　you　that　I　must　bide　a　bit　till　I　see　what　your
  pleasure　is　about　the　poor　fellow。　　Mind；　my　dear；　I　don't　want　to
  force　ye；　I　only　just　ask　ye。'
  Anne　meditatively　regarded　the　miller　from　under　her　shady　eyelids；
  the　fingers　of　one　hand　playing　a　silent　tattoo　on　her　bosom。　　'I
  don't　know　what　to　say　to　you；'　she　answered　brusquely；　and　went
  away。
  But　these　discourses　were　not　without　their　effect　upon　the
  extremely　conscientious　mind　of　Anne。　　They　were；　moreover；　much
  helped　by　an　incident　which　took　place　one　evening　in　the　autumn　of
  th