, where would
you be now? Ellen is only doing now what you did for yourself
eleven years ago."

Joanna's feelings were divided between gratification at the flattery she
never could resist, and a fierce resentment at the insult offered her in
supposing she could ever wink at such "goings on." The more indignant
emotions predominated in the letter she wrote Sir Harry, for she knew
well enough that the flattery was not sincere--he was merely out to
propitiate.

Her feelings towards Ellen were exceedingly bitter, and the letter she
wrote her was a rough one:--

"You're nothing but a baggage. It makes no difference that you wear
fine clothes and shoes that he's bought you to your shame. You're
just every bit as low as Martha Tilden whom I got shut of ten year
ago for no worse than you've done."

Nevertheless, she insisted that Ellen should come home. She guaranteed
Arthur's forgiveness, and--somewhat rashly--the neighbours' discretion.
"I've told them you're in London with Mrs. Williams. But that won't hold
good much more than another week. So be quick and come home, before it's
too late."

Unfortunately the facts of Ellen's absence were already beginning to
leak out. People did not believe in the London story. Had not the Old
Squire's visits to Donkey Street been the tattle of the Marsh for six
months? She was condemned not only at the Woolpack, but at the three
markets of Rye, Lydd and Romney. Joanna was furious.

"It's that Post Office," she exclaimed, and the remark was not quite
unjust. The contents of telegrams had always had an alarming way of
spreading themselves over the district, and Joanna felt sure that Miss
Godfrey would have both made and published her own conclusions on the
large amount of foreign correspondence now received at Ansdore.

Ellen herself was the next to write. She wrote impenitently and
decidedly. She would never come back, so there was no good either Joanna
or Arthur expecting it. She had left Donkey Street because she could not
endure its cramped ways any longer, and it was unreasonable to expect
her to return.

"If Arthur has any feeling for me left, he will divorce me. He can
easily do it, and then we shall both be free to re-marry."

"Reckon she thinks the old Squire ud like to marry her," said Alce, "I'd
be glad if I thought so well of him."

"He can't marry her, seeing as she's your wife."

"If we were divorced, she wouldn't be."

"She would. Y