at six," she said, with a constrained little smile, to Mr Proctor, and
went up-stairs with her key-basket in her hand without taking any
special notice of the Rector. Mr Leeson was to come to dinner that day
legitimately by invitation, and Mrs Morgan, who felt it would be a
little consolation to disappoint the hungry Curate for once, was
making up her mind, as she went up-stairs, not to have the All-Souls
pudding, of which he showed so high an appreciation. It almost seemed
to her as if this spark of ill-nature was receiving a summary
chastisement, when she heard steps ascending behind her. Mrs Morgan
objected to have men lounging about her drawing-room in the morning.
She thought Mr Proctor was coming to bestow a little more of his
confidence upon her, and perhaps to consult her about his furnishing;
and being occupied by her own troubles, she had no patience for a
tiresome, middle-aged lover, who no doubt was going to disappoint and
disenchant another woman. She sat down, accordingly, with a sigh of
impatience at her work-table, turning her back to the door. Perhaps,
when he saw her inhospitable attitude, he might go away and not bother
her. And Mrs Morgan took out some stockings to darn, as being a
discontented occupation, and was considering within herself what
simple preparation she could have instead of the All-Souls pudding,
when, looking up suddenly, she saw, not Mr Proctor, but the Rector,
standing looking down upon her within a few steps of her chair. When
she perceived him, it was not in nature to refrain from certain
symptoms of agitation. The thoughts she had been indulging in brought
suddenly a rush of guilty colour to her face; but she commanded
herself as well as she could, and went on darning her stockings, with
her heart beating very loud in her breast.

"My dear," said the Rector, taking a seat near her, "I don't know what
it is that has risen between us. We look as if we had quarrelled; and
I thought we had made up our minds never to quarrel." The words were
rather soft in their signification, but Mr Morgan could not help
speaking severely, as was natural to his voice; which was perhaps, in
the present case, all the better for his wife.

"I don't know what you may consider quarrelling, William," said Mrs
Morgan, "but I am sure I have never made any complaint."

"No," said the Rector; "I have seen women do that before. You don't
make any complaint, but you look as if you disapproved of everything.