t love. Oh, no!
She knew well enough that she did love,--love with all her heart. If
it were not that she were so torn to rags that she was not fit to be
worn again, she could now have thrown herself into his arms with a
whole heaven of joy before her. A woman, she told herself, had no
right to a second chance in life, after having made such a shipwreck
of herself in the first. But the danger of being seduced from her
judgment by Arthur Fletcher was all over. He had been near her for
the last week and had not spoken a word. He had been in the same
house with her for the last ten days and had been with her as a
brother might be with his sister. It was not only she who had
seen the propriety of this. He also had acknowledged it, and she
was--grateful to him. As she endeavoured in her solitude to express
her gratitude in spoken words the tears rolled down her cheeks.
She was glad, she told herself, very glad that it was so. How much
trouble and pain to both of them would thus be spared! And yet her
tears were bitter tears. It was better as it was;--and yet one word
of love would have been very sweet. She almost thought that she would
have liked to tell him that for his sake, for his dear sake, she
would refuse--that which now would never be offered to her. She was
quite clear as to the rectitude of her own judgment, clear as ever.
And yet her heart was heavy with disappointment.

It was the end of March before she left Herefordshire for London,
having spent the greater part of the time at Longbarns. The ladies at
that place were moved by many doubts as to what would be the end of
all this. Mrs. Fletcher the elder at last almost taught herself to
believe that there would be no marriage, and having got back to that
belief, was again opposed to the idea of a marriage. Anything and
everything that Arthur wanted he ought to have. The old lady felt
no doubt as to that. When convinced that he did want to have this
widow,--this woman whose life had hitherto been so unfortunate,--she
had for his sake taken the woman again by the hand, and had assisted
in making her one of themselves. But how much better it would be that
Arthur should think better of it! It was the maddest constancy,--this
clinging to the widow of such a man as Ferdinand Lopez! If there were
any doubt, then she would be prepared to do all she could to prevent
the marriage. Emily had been forgiven, and the pardon bestowed must
of course be continued. But she might b