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Jael went down; borrowed the first shawl she could lay her hand on; hooded herself with it, and was across the road in a moment.

"What, does she tell me to go away, and leave her to him?"

"What does that matter? her heart goes with you."

"Won't you take my word for it? I'm not given to lying."

"I know that. Oh, Jael, sweet, pretty, good-hearted Jael, have pity on me, and tell me the truth: is it me she loves, or that Coventry?"

"Oh, bless you! bless you! Ah, if I could only be sure of that, what wouldn't I do for her? But, if she loves me, why, why send me away? It is very cruel that so many should be in the same room with her, and HE should dance with her, and I must not even look on and catch a glimpse of her now and then. I won't go home."

"Ah!" said Jael, "you are like all the young men: you think only of yourself. And you call yourself a scholar of the good doctor's."

"Then why don't you go by his rule, and put yourself in a body's place? Suppose you was in her place, master of this house like, and dancing with a pack of girls you didn't care for, and SHE stood out here, pale and sighing; and suppose things were so that you couldn't come out to her, nor she come in to you, wouldn't it cut you to the heart to see her stand in the street and look so unhappy--poor lad? Be good, now, and go home to thy mother. Why stand here and poison the poor young lady's pleasure--such as 'tis--and torment thyself." Jael's own eyes filled, and that proof of sympathy inclined Henry all the more to listen to her reason.