ggett she could not repeat the explanation.

"It nigh drives me wild," said Mrs Baggett. "I don't suppose you
ever heard of Catherine Bailey?"

"Never."

"And I ain't a-going to tell you. It's a romance as shall be wrapped
inside my own bosom. It was quite a tragedy,--was Catherine Bailey;
and one as would stir your heart up if you was to hear it. Catherine
Bailey was a young woman. But I'm not going to tell you the
story;--only that she was no more fit for Mr Whittlestaff than any
of them stupid young girls that walks about the streets gaping in at
the shop-windows in Alresford. I do you the justice, Miss Lawrie, to
say as you are such a female as he ought to look after."

"Thank you, Mrs Baggett."

"But she led him into such trouble, because his heart is soft, as
was dreadful to look at. He is one of them as always wants a wife.
Why didn't he get one before? you'll say. Because till you came in
the way he was always thinking of Catherine Bailey. Mrs Compas she
become. 'Drat her and her babies!' I often said to myself. What was
Compas? No more than an Old Bailey lawyer;--not fit to be looked at
alongside of our Mr Whittlestaff. No more ain't Mr John Gordon, to
my thinking. You think of all that, Miss Mary, and make up your mind
whether you'll break his heart after giving a promise. Heart-breaking
ain't to him what it is to John Gordon and the likes of him."

CHAPTER XX.

MR WHITTLESTAFF TAKES HIS JOURNEY.

Mr Whittlestaff did at last get into the train and have himself
carried up to London. And he ate his sandwiches and drank his sherry
with an air of supreme satisfaction,--as though he had carried his
point. And so he had. He had made up his mind on a certain matter;
and, with the object of doing a certain piece of work, he had escaped
from the two dominant women of his household, who had done their
best to intercept him. So far his triumph was complete. But as he
sat silent in the corner of the carriage, his mind reverted to
the purpose of his journey, and he cannot be said to have been
triumphant. He knew it all as well as did Mrs Baggett. And he knew
too that, except Mrs Baggett and the girl herself, all the world was
against him. That ass Montagu Blake every time he opened his mouth
as to his own bride let out the idea that John Gordon should have
his bride because John Gordon was young and lusty, and because he,
Whittlestaff, might be regarded as an old man. The Miss Halls were
altogether of th