y and Mr. Trigger. In the meantime
Sir Thomas was to remain quiet for a few days. The petition was not
to be tried till the end of February, and there was still time for
deliberation. Sir Thomas just now very often took out that great
heap of Baconian papers, but still not a word of the biography was
written. He was, alas! still very far from writing the first word.
"It is all very well, Patience, but I do not mean to try to change,"
said Clarissa.

Poor Patience could make no answer, dreadful as was to her such an
assertion from a young woman. "There is a man who clearly does not
want to marry you, who has declared in the plainest way that he does
want to marry some one else, who has grossly deceived you, and who
never means to think of you again; and yet you say that you will
wilfully adhere to your regard for him!" Such would have been the
speech which Patience would have made, had she openly expressed her
thoughts. But Clarissa was ill, and weak, and wretched; and Patience
could not bring herself to say a word that should distress her
sister.

"If he came to me to-morrow, of course I should forgive him,"
Clarissa said again. These conversations were never commenced by
Patience, who would rather have omitted any mention of that base
young man. "Of course I should. Men do do those things. Men are not
like women. They do all manner of things and everybody forgives them.
I don't say anything about hoping. I don't hope for anything. I am
not happy enough to hope. I shouldn't care if I knew I were going to
die to-morrow. But there can be no change. If you want me to be a
hypocrite, Patience, I will; but what will be the use? The truth will
be the same."

The two girls let her have her way, never contradicted her, coaxed
her, and tried to comfort her;--but it was in vain. At first she
would not go out of the house, not even to church, and then she took
to lying in bed. This lasted into the middle of January, and still
Sir Thomas did not come home. He wrote frequently, short notes to
Patience, sending money, making excuses, making promises, always
expressing some word of hatred or disgust as to Percycross; but still
he did not come. At last, when Clarissa declared that she preferred
lying in bed to getting up, Patience went up to London and fetched
her father home. It had gone so far with Sir Thomas now that he was
unable even to attempt to defend himself. He humbly said that he was
sorry that he had been away so long,