y had been married nearly a fortnight, she had given no hint of a
desire to know the extent of his wealth, or where he kept any little
hoard of ready money that he might have by him in the house. Nor on
market-day had she expressed any wish to go with him to Malsham to spend
money on drapery; and he had an idea, sedulously cultivated by Mrs.
Tadman, that young women were perpetually wanting to spend money at
drapers' shops. Altogether, that first fortnight of his married life had
been most satisfactory, and Mr. Whitelaw was inclined to regard matrimony
as a wise and profitable institution.

The day's work was done, and Ellen was sitting with Mrs. Tadman in the
every-day parlour, waiting for the return of her lord and master from
Malsham. It was not a market-day, but Stephen Whitelaw had announced at
dinner-time that he had an appointment at Malsham, and had set out
immediately after dinner in the chaise-cart, much to the wonderment of
Mrs. Tadman, who was an inveterate gossip, and never easy until she
arrived at the bottom of any small household mystery. She wondered not a
little also at Ellen's supreme indifference to her husband's proceedings.

"I can't for the life of me think what's taken him to Malsham to-day,"
she said, as she plied her rapid knitting-needles in the manufacture of a
gray-worsted stocking. "I haven't known him go to Malsham, except of a
market-day, not once in a twelvemonth. It must be a rare business to take
him there in the middle of the week; for he can't abide to leave the farm
in working-hours, except when he's right down obliged to it. Nothing goes
on the same when his back's turned, he says; there's always something
wrong. And if it was an appointment with any one belonging to Malsham,
why couldn't it have stood over till Saturday? It must be something out
of the common that won't keep a couple of days."

Mrs. Tadman went on with her knitting, gazing at Ellen with an expectant
countenance, waiting for her to make some suggestion. But the girl was
quite silent, and there was a blank expression in her eyes, which looked
out across the level stretch of grass between the house and the river, a
look that told Mrs. Tadman very few of her words had been heard by her
companion. It was quite disheartening to talk to such a person; but the
widow went on nevertheless, being so full of her subject that she must
needs talk to some one, even if that some one were little better than a
stock or a stone.