to dine in company with that man."

"It was not for me to refuse to go."

"No; there is no blame to you in it;--nor is there blame to me. But
it would have been better for us both had we remained away." Then he
drove on in silence, and did not speak another word till they reached
home.

"Well!" said Mrs Baggett, following them into the dining-room.

"What do you mean by 'well'?"

"What did the folks say to you at Mr Hall's? I can see by your face
that some of them have been saying summat."

"Nobody has been saying anything that I know of," said Mr
Whittlestaff. "Do you go to bed." Then when Mrs Baggett was gone,
and Mary had listlessly seated herself on a chair, her lover again
addressed her. "I wish I knew what there is in your heart." Yet she
would not tell him; but turned away her face and sat silent. "Have
you nothing to say to me?"

"What should I have to say to you? I have nothing to say of that of
which you are thinking."

"He has gone now, Mary."

"Yes; he has gone."

"And you are contented?" It did seem hard upon her that she should be
called upon to tell a lie,--to say that which he must know to be a
lie,--and to do so in order that he might be encouraged to persevere
in achieving his own object. But she did not quite understand him.
"Are you contented?" he repeated again.

Then she thought that she would tell the lie. If it was well that
she should make the sacrifice for his sake, why should it not be
completed? If she had to give herself to him, why should not the gift
be as satisfactory as it might be made to his feelings? "Yes; I am
contented."

"And you do not wish to see him again?"

"Certainly not, as your wife."

"You do not wish it at all," he rejoined, "whether you be my wife or
otherwise?"

"I think you press me too hard." Then she remembered herself, and the
perfect sacrifice which she was minded to make. "No; I do not wish
again to see Mr Gordon at all. Now, if you will allow me, I will
go to bed. I am thoroughly tired out, and I hardly know what I am
saying."

"Yes; you can go to bed," he said. Then she gave him her hand in
silence, and went off to her own room.

She had no sooner reached her bed, than she threw herself on it and
burst into tears. All this which she had to endure,--all that she
would have to bear,--would be, she thought, too much for her. And
there came upon her a feeling of contempt for his cruelty. Had he
sternly resolved to keep her to her promised wo