t I would draw no
nearer to set their consciences at rest. And then there was Captain
Tyrrell at the Hall.

Why did Grace Tyrrell want me to marry her brother? I do not know;
unless because she liked me, for she was fond of him; unless because my
substantial dowry would be of use to the needy man of fashion. I had
heard before that he had made two unsuccessful attempts to marry an
heiress. I was not an heiress, but the hand that I should give to a
husband would be pretty well filled. At all events he was ever by my
side, and Grace (I am now sure) helped him to contrive that it should be
so. I did not like him, I never had liked him. Before I had come to
Hillsbro' he had wearied me with compliments and attentions. When he had
visited me at the farm, elegant as he was, I had contrasted him
unfavourably with the absent "ploughman," wondering that language had
only provided one word, "man," by which to designate two creatures so
different. He was the same now that he had been then; but I, who had
soared to things higher, had fallen. Anyone was useful to talk to, to
walk with, to drive with, so that time might pass; any noise, any
bustle, that would keep me from thinking, was grateful. So I tolerated
the attention of Captain Tyrrell, and he and Grace hemmed me in between
them. Rachel looked on in silence, sometimes with contempt, sometimes
with wondering pity. John kept further and further aloof, and his face
got darker, and sadder, and sterner to me. And this it was that
bewildered and chafed me more than anything I had suffered yet. Why,
since he had turned his back upon me, would he keep constantly looking
over his shoulder? And, oh me! how Grace did whisper; and how her
whispers fired me with pride, while the confidence I had foolishly given
her daily wore away my womanly self-respect.

My children, you will wonder why I did not behave heroically under this
trial. You despise a heroine who is subject to the most common faults
and failings. The old woman now can look back and mark out a better
course of conduct for the girl. But the girl is gone--the past is past,
the life is lived. I was full of the humours and delusions of nineteen
years, and I saw the glory and delight of my youth wrecked. Existence
was merely inextricable confusion in the dark. I never dreamt of a path
appearing, of a return of sunshine, of a story like this to be
afterwards told.

Rachel's conduct was variable and strange to me at this time. She k