speak."

"But why should you decide now? She is not to be married yet, you
know."

"Now, or this day twelvemonth, can make no difference. I will not go
into that house again, unless--but never mind; I will not go into it
all; never, never again. If I could forgive her for myself, I could
not forgive her for my uncle. But tell me, Patience, might not
Beatrice now come here? It is so dreadful to see her every Sunday in
church and never to speak to her, never to kiss her. She seems to
look away from me as though she too had chosen to quarrel with me."

Miss Oriel promised to do her best. She could not imagine, she said,
that such a visit could be objected to on such an occasion. She would
not advise Beatrice to come without telling her mother; but she
could not think that Lady Arabella would be so cruel as to make any
objection, knowing, as she could not but know, that her daughter,
when married, would be at liberty to choose her own friends.

"Good-bye, Mary," said Patience. "I wish I knew how to say more to
comfort you."

"Oh, comfort! I don't want comfort. I want to be let alone."

"That's just it: you are so ferocious in your scorn, so unbending, so
determined to take all the punishment that comes in your way."

"What I do take, I'll take without complaint," said Mary; and then
they kissed each other and parted.

CHAPTER XXXIII

A Morning Visit

It must be remembered that Mary, among her miseries, had to suffer
this: that since Frank's departure, now nearly twelve months ago, she
had not heard a word about him; or rather, she had only heard that he
was very much in love with some lady in London. This news reached her
in a manner so circuitous, and from such a doubtful source; it seemed
to her to savour so strongly of Lady Arabella's precautions, that
she attributed it at once to malice, and blew it to the winds. It
might not improbably be the case that Frank was untrue to her; but
she would not take it for granted because she was now told so. It
was more than probable that he should amuse himself with some one;
flirting was his prevailing sin; and if he did flirt, the most would
of course be made of it.

But she found it to be very desolate to be thus left alone without
a word of comfort or a word of love; without being able to speak to
any one of what filled her heart; doubting, nay, more than doubting,
being all but sure that her passion must terminate in misery. Why had
she not obeyed her con