e
is anxious to be reconciled with him; Armadale is rich and prosperous,
and ready to submit to the elder man; and sooner or later they will be
friends again, and the marriage will follow. Warning Major Milroy is
only the way to embarrass them for the present; it is not the way to
part them for good and all.

"What _is_ the way? I can't see it. I could tear my own hair off my
head! I could burn the house down! If there was a train of gunpowder
under the whole world, I could light it, and blow the whole world to
destruction--I am in such a rage, such a frenzy with myself for not
seeing it!

"Poor dear Midwinter! Yes, '_dear_.' I don't care. I'm lonely and
helpless. I want somebody who is gentle and loving to make much of me;
I wish I had his head on my bosom again; I have a good mind to go to
London and marry him. Am I mad? Yes; all people who are as miserable
as I am are mad. I must go to the window and get some air. Shall I jump
out? No; it disfigures one so, and the coroner's inquest lets so many
people see it.

"The air has revived me. I begin to remember that I have Time on my
side, at any rate. Nobody knows but me of their secret meetings in the
park the first thing in the morning. If jealous old Bashwood, who is
slinking and sly enough for anything, tries to look privately after
Armadale, in his own interests, he will try at the usual time when he
goes to the steward's office. He knows nothing of Miss Milroy's early
habits; and he won't be on the spot till Armadale has got back to the
house. For another week to come, I may wait and watch them, and choose
my own time and way of interfering the moment I see a chance of his
getting the better of her hesitation, and making her say Yes.

"So here I wait, without knowing how things will end with Midwinter in
London; with my purse getting emptier and emptier, and no appearance
so far of any new pupils to fill it; with Mother Oldershaw certain to
insist on having her money back the moment she knows I have failed;
without prospects, friends, or hopes of any kind--a lost woman, if ever
there was a lost woman yet. Well! I say it again and again and again--I
don't care! Here I stop, if I sell the clothes off my back, if I hire
myself at the public-house to play to the brutes in the tap-room; here I
stop till the time comes, and I see the way to parting Armadale and Miss
Milroy forever!"

"Seven o'clock.--Any signs that the time is coming yet? I hardly
know; there are