ouse."

"You can't be more sick of it than I am," said his wife.

"What I mean is, that I'm sick of it as a subject of conversation.
There it is, and let us make the best of it, as Quickenham says."

"You can't expect anything like sympathy from Richard, you know."

"I don't want any sympathy. I want simply silence. If you'll only
make up your mind to take it for granted, and to put up with it--as
you had to do with the frost when the shrubs were killed, or with
anything that is disagreeable but unavoidable, the feeling of
unhappiness about it would die away at once. One does not grieve at
the inevitable."

"But one must be quite sure that it is inevitable."

"There it stands, and nothing that we can do can stop it."

"Charlotte says that she is sure Richard has got something in his
head. Though he will not sympathise, he will think and contrive and
fight."

"And half ruin us by his fighting," said the husband. "He fancies the
land may be common land, and not private property."

"Then of course the chapel has no right to be there."

"But who is to have it removed? And if I could succeed in doing so,
what would be said to me for putting down a place of worship after
such a fashion as that?"

"Who could say anything against you, Frank?"

"The truth is, it is Lord Trowbridge who is my enemy here, and not
the chapel or Mr. Puddleham. I'd have given the spot for the chapel,
had they wanted it, and had I had the power to give it. I'm annoyed
because Lord Trowbridge should know that he had got the better of
me. If I can only bring myself to feel,--and you too,--that there is
no better in it, and no worse, I shall be annoyed no longer. Lord
Trowbridge cannot really touch me; and could he, I do not know that
he would."

"I know he would."

"No, my dear. If he suddenly had the power to turn me out of the
living I don't believe he'd do it,--any more than I would him out of
his estate. Men indulge in little injuries who can't afford to be
wicked enough for great injustice. My dear, you will do me a great
favour,--the greatest possible kindness,--if you'll give up all
outer, and, as far as possible, all inner hostility to the chapel."

"Oh, Frank!"

"I ask it as a great favour,--for my peace of mind."

"Of course I will."

"There's my darling! It shan't make me unhappy any longer. What!--a
stupid lot of bricks and mortar, that, after all, are intended for a
good purpose,--to think that I should become a miser