ed the atmosphere of her life. That fellow-creature
was one who had once loved her so fondly, and whom she still loved,
although she had learnt to fear her, as we fear those whose faces
cloud over when we come in sight--who cast unloving glances at us,
of which we, though not seeing, are conscious, as of some occult
influence; and the cause of whose dislike is unknown to us, though
every word and action seems to increase it. I believe that this sort
of dislike is only shown by the jealous, and that it renders the
disliker even more miserable, because more continually conscious than
the object; but the growing evidence of Jemima's feeling made Ruth
very unhappy at times. This very May, too, an idea had come into her
mind, which she had tried to repress--namely, that Mr Farquhar was in
love with her. It annoyed her extremely; it made her reproach herself
that she ever should think such a thing possible. She tried to
strangle the notion, to drown it, to starve it out by neglect--its
existence caused her such pain and distress.

The worst was, he had won Leonard's heart, who was constantly
seeking him out; or, when absent, talking about him. The best was
some journey connected with business, which would take him to the
Continent for several weeks; and, during that time, surely this
disagreeable fancy of his would die away, if untrue; and if true,
some way would be opened by which she might put a stop to all
increase of predilection on his part, and yet retain him as a friend
for Leonard--that darling for whom she was far-seeing and covetous,
and miserly of every scrap of love and kindly regard.

Mr Farquhar would not have been flattered if he had known how much
his departure contributed to Ruth's rest of mind on the Saturday
afternoon on which he set out on his journey. It was a beautiful day;
the sky of that intense quivering blue which seemed as though you
could look through it for ever, yet not reach the black, infinite
space which is suggested as lying beyond. Now and then a thin, torn,
vaporous cloud floated slowly within the vaulted depth; but the soft
air that gently wafted it was not perceptible among the leaves on the
trees, which did not even tremble. Ruth sat at her work in the shadow
formed by the old grey garden wall; Miss Benson and Sally--the one in
the parlour window-seat mending stockings, the other hard at work in
her kitchen--were both within talking distance, for it was weather
for open doors and windo