For that I feel accountable,' said Robert, sadly. 'I cannot forget that
her determination coincided with the evening I made her aware of my
position. I saw that in her face that has haunted me ever since. I had
almost rather it had been resentment.'

'I hope she will make you happy,' said Phoebe, dolefully, thinking it a
pity he should be disturbed when settled in to his work, and forced by
experience to fear that Lucy would torment him.

'I do not do it for the sake of happiness,' he returned. 'I am not blind
to her faults; but she has a grand, generous character that deserves
patience and forbearance. Besides, the past can never be cancelled, and
it is due to her to offer her whatever may be mine. There may be storms,
but she has been disciplined, poor dear, and I am more sure of myself
than I was. She _should_ conform, and my work should not be impeded.'

Grimly he continued to anticipate hurricanes for his wedded life, and to
demonstrate that he was swayed by justice and not by passion; but it was
suspicious that he recurred constantly to the topic, and seemed able to
dwell on no other. If Phoebe could have been displeased with him, it
would have been for these reiterations at such a time. Not having been
personally injured, she pardoned less than did either Robert or Miss
Charlecote; she could not foresee peace for her brother; and though she
might pity him for the compulsion of honour and generosity, she found
that his auguries were not intended to excite compassionate acquiescence,
but cheerful contradiction, such as both her good sense and her oppressed
spirits refused. If he could talk about nothing better than Lucy when
alone with her, she could the less regret the rarity of these
opportunities.

The gentlemen of the family alone attended the funeral, the two elder
sisters remaining in town, whither their husbands were to return at
night. Mrs. Fulmort remained in the same dreary state of heaviness, but
with some languid heed to the details, and interest in hearing from Maria
and Bertha, from behind the blinds, what carriages were at the door, and
who got into them. Phoebe, with strong effort, then controlled her voice
to read aloud till her mother dozed as usual, and she could sit and think
until Robert knocked, to summon her to the reading of the will. 'You
must come,' he said; 'I know it jars, but it is Mervyn's wish, and he is
right.' On the stairs Mervyn met her, took her from Robert, and l