is your belief of the state of her
wishes?"

"I can tell you my belief of the state of her welfare."

"There your own prejudice creeps in, and I might retaliate by
charging you with vanity as you have done me,--only that I think
such vanity very natural. But it is her you should consult on such a
matter. She is not to be treated like a child. Of whom does she wish
to become the wife? I boldly say that I have won her love, and that
if it be so, you should not desire to take her to yourself. You have
not answered me, nor can I expect you to answer me; but look into
yourself and answer it there. Think how it will be with you, when the
girl who lies upon your shoulder shall be thinking ever of some other
man from whom you have robbed her. Good-bye, Mr Whittlestaff. I do
not doubt but that you will turn it all over in your thoughts." Then
he escaped by a wicket-gate into the road at the far end of the long
walk, and was no more heard of at Croker's Hall on that day.

CHAPTER XI.

MRS BAGGETT TRUSTS ONLY IN THE FUNDS.

Mr Whittlestaff, when he was left alone in the long walk, was
disturbed by many troublesome thoughts. The knowledge that his
housekeeper was out on the road, and that her drunken disreputable
husband was playing the fool for the benefit of all the idlers that
had sauntered out from Alresford to see him, added something to his
grief. Why should not the stupid woman remain indoors, and allow him,
her master, to send for the police? She had declared that she would
go with her husband, and he could not violently prevent her. This was
not much when added to the weight of his care as to Mary Lawrie, but
it seemed to be the last ounce destined to break the horse's back, as
is the proverbial fate of all last ounces.

Just as he was about to collect his thoughts, so as to resolve what
it might be his duty to do in regard to Mary, Mrs Baggett appeared
before him on the walk with her bonnet on her head. "What are you
going to do, you stupid woman?"

"I am a-going with he," she said, in the midst of a torrent of sobs
and tears. "It's a dooty. They says if you does your dooty all will
come right in the end. It may be, but I don't see it no further than
taking him back to Portsmouth."

"What on earth are you going to Portsmouth for now? And why? why now?
He's not more drunk than he has been before, nor yet less abominable.
Let the police lock him up for the night, and send him back to
Portsmouth in the mo