Slowly he walked up the road, when suddenly a white figure started up on his path. The young governess again stood before Clare. 'I could not hear of your going,' cried the beautiful girl, her bright face suffused with blushes, and her long auburn hair fluttering in the wind; 'I could not hear of your going, without saying good-bye.' Clare again tried to speak, and again the words died upon his lips. But she continued addressing him; 'Oh, do not forget to write to me,' she said earnestly, with a tinge of melancholy in her soft voice. It thrilled through his soul, and opened his lips at last. 'I will write,' he answered, 'and I will send you some new poems.' Thus saying, he bent forward and took both her hands, and their eyes met, full of unspeakable passion. But a sudden noise from the distance startled Clare and his fair companion. There was a man on horseback coming up with full speed, riding in the direction of Holywell Park. The young governess softly loosened her hands, turned a last fond look upon the poet, and fled away like a frightened hind into a neighbouring wood.
John Clare hurried forward, his face flushed, his head trembling; forgetful of all the things around him. At last, feeling exhausted, he sat down on a stone, at the turning of two roads. The one of the roads was leading to Stamford; the other to Bridge Casterton and Walkherd Lodge. Clare felt like one entranced. Joy unutterable was struggling in his bosom together with infinite sadness, and the wild pulsation of his heart seemed to drive his blood, like living fire, to his very soul. And he held his burning head in his hands, sitting at the corner of the two roads. The image of the beautiful girl he had just left, an image more perfect, more sweet and angelic than ever conceived by his imagination, appeared standing in one of the roads, and the picture of a sad, suffering woman, surrounded by angry parents, in the other. Lower sank the sun on the horizon; it was beginning to get dark; but Clare still kept sitting at the corner of the two roads, his throbbing head bent to his knees. The clouds in the west glowed with a fierce purple, when he started up at last. He started up and walked, swiftly and with firm step, towards Walkherd Lodge. The clouds in the west seemed to glow with an unearthly light.