he man, and I am nearly twenty years younger than
Sir Francis. You don't suppose that I can put myself altogether on
the same platform with him as you did with your lover. It is absurd
to suppose it. Do you let him go his way, and me go mine. You may be
sure that not a word of reproach will ever fall from my lips."--"Till
we are married," Cecilia had intended to say, but she did not
complete the sentence.

But the words of her comforters had their effect, as no doubt was the
case with Job. She had complained to no one, but everybody had seen
her condition. Her poor dear old mother, who would have put up with
a very moderate amount of good usage on the part of such a lover as
Sir Francis, had been aware that things were not as they should be.
Her three friends, to whom she had not opened her mouth in the way
of expressing her grievance, had all seen her trouble. That Maude
Hippesley and Miss Altifiorla had noticed it did not strike her with
much surprise, but that Mrs. Green should have expressed herself so
boldly was startling. She could not but turn the matter over in her
own mind and ask herself whether she were ill-treated. And it was
not only those differences which the ladies noticed which struck her
as ominous, but a certain way which Sir Francis had when talking to
herself which troubled her. That light tone of contempt if begun now
would certainly not be dropped after their marriage. He had assumed
an easy way of almost laughing at her, of quizzing her pursuits, and,
worse still, of only half listening to her, which she felt to promise
very badly for her future happiness. If he wanted his liberty he
should have it,--now and then. She would never be a drag on her
husband's happiness. She had resolved from the very first not to be
an exigeant wife. She would care for all his cares, but she would
never be a troublesome wife. All that had been matter of deep thought
to her. And if he were not given to literary tastes in earnest,--for
in the first days of their love-making there had been, as was
natural, a little pretence,--she would not harass him by her
pursuits. And she would sympathise with his racing and his shooting.
And she would interest herself, if possible, about Newmarket,--as to
which place she found he had a taste. And, joined to all the rest,
there came a conviction that his real tastes did take that direction.
She had never before heard that he had a passion for the turf; but
if it should turn out tha